


Lockdown

by DeathBelle



Series: Lockdown [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Everyone is a criminal, Except Karasuno, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting, M/M, Smoking, Suggestive Conversations, They're Prison Guards, Threats, Violence, alcohol use, background TenSemi, prison!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-08-21 03:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Oikawa expects that his time in prison won't be the best two years of his life. What he doesn't expect is an antisocial cellblock, a half-crazed redhead who insists on befriending him, and the wildcard boss of Block Three who builds a grudge against him on day one. Worst of all is the menacing Iwaizumi Hajime, to whom Oikawa becomes an unwilling cellmate. Iwaizumi is coarse, unpleasant, and makes it quite clear that he wants nothing to do with Oikawa.At first, anyway.Within the first few months of his stay, Oikawa gets caught up in a war between cellblocks, becomes a prime target, and must decide just how far he's willing to go to protect Iwaizumi Hajime.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It took way too long but here it is. This will be updated every Saturday until it's finished.
> 
> Please do not think this is an accurate representation of Japanese prisons. I took a lot of creative liberties here for the sake of the story. 
> 
> Don't break the law. You don't want to end up like these guys.

A storm brewed on the horizon.

It was obvious in the foggy gray of the sky, the dense, dark clouds that floated like phantoms overhead. Oikawa smelled the impending rain, felt the humidity in the air that blew across his face from the cracked bus window. He barely heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance over the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. 

The storm would be vicious, but Oikawa would have gladly braved the elements if it meant avoiding his destination.

He shifted on the knobby bus seat and chains rattled around his ankles. His wrists were cuffed too, attached to his shackles in a way that left him unable to raise his arms higher than his shoulders. 

Oikawa felt that was excessive. They were in the middle of nowhere. Even if he tried to run, they would catch him before he made it fifty yards. There was nowhere to go.

He sighed and leaned his forehead against the window, closing his eyes against the rush of cool wind. He should appreciate this moment before it ended, before he was locked behind a concrete wall and four layers of barbed wire fencing. 

Two years; that was how much of his life had been forfeited. He was going to be in a cage for two solid years. 

Not for the first time, Oikawa considered how badly he’d fucked up.

“Stop moping.”

Oikawa glanced to the side, at his fellow passenger. They were the only two on the bus, aside from the driver. The stranger hadn’t spoken since they’d boarded, and Oikawa hadn’t minded. Something about him was intimidating. It may have been the sharpness of his eyes, or the scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. 

Oikawa shuffled his feet with another clank. “I’m not moping. Just not exactly looking forward to prison.”

“Don’t be a little bitch,” the man scoffed. He folded his arms as best he could with the cuffs cinched around his wrists. “It’s not so bad. ‘Specially not this one. If you were headed to max security you’d have a reason to worry.”

“Wait, have you… you’ve been here before?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, ‘bout a year ago.”

Oikawa gawked at him. “And you’re back already?”

The man smiled. It was sharp and lethal, much worse than his scowl. 

The bus rolled to a stop. Oikawa put his hands out to steady himself, but the chains pulled them short. His forehead smacked the seat in front of him and he reeled back with a mumble of protest.

“Let’s go, inmates,” said the bus driver, pulling the lever to open the door. “Get off so I can get back before the rain starts.”

Oikawa peered out the window one last time before climbing to his feet. The sky looked fit to burst at any moment. He thought the driver was out of luck.

His fellow passenger disembarked first, hopping down the stairs as if he wasn’t bothered by the shackles. Oikawa followed at a more careful pace, easing his way to the ground. The instant his shoes touched the asphalt, the doors squeaked shut and the bus rumbled away.

They were in a fenced-in yard, just wide enough for the bus to drop them off and turn around. A larger area was visible through the barbed fence, ringed by a narrow paved path. There was a square of asphalt in the middle of the grass and a pair of rickety basketball hoops at either end. There was no one in sight, and Oikawa wondered if the weather had scared them inside or if anyone was even allowed to go outside at all.

His new colleague would know, since this wasn’t a new experience for him.

“C’mon,” the man said, gesturing Oikawa forward with a toss of his head. “The guards will book us in and give us our shit. They’ll take these off, too.” He rattled the chains for emphasis, as if Oikawa could mistake what he meant.

He scuffed along behind the stranger, approaching the single door built into the wall. There were cameras posted on each side, and the lenses felt like intent eyes.

Oikawa hesitated, but his companion had no such reservations. He jammed an elbow into the buzzer by the door and said, “Hey, it’s about to fucking downpour out here. Let us in.”

There was no answer, and Oikawa wondered if someone would respond or if they would be left to fend for themselves until morning.

A minute later the door opened, and Oikawa felt a small flicker of relief.

Then he realized exactly what he was relieved about, and his dread returned in full force.

The guard in the doorway glanced at Oikawa, but his attention idled elsewhere. “Semi,” he said, his voice deep and unimpressed. “I heard you were coming back. Did you miss it that much?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Semi. He thrust his hands forward. “Give me a hand here?”

“Where’s the bus driver?” said Sawamura, looking around as if he may have missed him. “He’s supposed to wait with you until we take you in.”

Semi snorted. “Yeah, right. He’d have to give a fuck to do that.”

Oikawa was taken aback by the informality with which Semi spoke to the guard. He’d expected a different sort of atmosphere, and he wasn’t sure if this was better or worse.

The guard freed Semi’s hands, then knelt to unlock his shackles. For a fleeting second, Oikawa was certain Semi would take the opportunity to slam a knee into the man’s face and run away.

Except there was nowhere for him to run.

When Semi’s chains were in a pile, the guard approached Oikawa. The name stitched into his uniform was “Cpt Sawamura”.

He eyed Oikawa with a frown that was almost disapproval. “I’m guessing you’re Oikawa?”

“Yes.”

“You try anything and you’ll be thrown in solitary for a solid month. We don’t mess around here.”

“Don’t worry,” said Oikawa. He offered his hands with a clink of metal. “I’m not stupid.”

Sawamura studied him, as if trying to determine how true that was. He fiddled with Oikawa’s cuffs and they fell away with a clang. Oikawa rubbed his wrists as Sawamura crouched to unlatch his shackles. When he was finished, Sawamura tossed them over his shoulder and gestured toward the building. “Come on, then. We’ll get you settled in before lights out.”

He went inside, Semi only a step behind. Oikawa tilted his head back to look up at the sky, which had curdled into an ashy gray. Another wash of thunder rose in the distance, and a meager raindrop splashed against his cheek. It struck right below the corner of his eye, where a tear would have swelled if he’d allowed himself to cry.

Oikawa wiped it away with a wry grin and headed inside.

  
  
  
  
  
The booking process was not pleasant.

Oikawa had known it was coming, but that didn’t make it less miserable. They were fingerprinted and photographed, then separated as another guard pulled Semi into a different room. Oikawa was ordered to strip, and he did so with great reluctance.

The embarrassment of complete nudity was nothing compared to the very thorough search that followed.

It wasn’t the first time Oikawa had been subjected to a cavity search. He’d gotten a few in jail, before he’d been convicted and transferred.

Still, repetition didn’t ease the feeling of shame that left his face hot, even after he’d taken a quick shower and Sawamura had tossed him some clothes.

The pants were an ugly orange, paired with a plain white t-shirt. They weren’t a great fit, but Oikawa felt it wasn’t in his best interest to complain. He pulled them on, pretended to have preserved at least a small amount of modesty, and followed Sawamura into the next room.

Semi was there, half-dressed and wholly unhappy.

“I know this wasn’t your fault,” he said through gritted teeth, his sharp stare drilling into another guard, “but you’re gonna have to fix it.”

“What’s your problem now?” said Sawamura. He gestured for Oikawa to stand still as he stepped up to Semi, whose hair dripped down the back of his neck. He was fresh out of his own shower. Oikawa assumed he’d gotten the same invasive treatment.

Semi wielded an orange shirt at him. A number was stamped on the back, beneath bold kanji that read “SEMI”.

“Cellblock Two?” said Semi, incredulous. He pointed at the last digit. “You can’t put me in Block Two. I was in One for years. You have to put me back there, Sawamura.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” said Sawamura flatly. “Put your clothes on. I don’t have time for this.”

“Come on. You know I don’t get along with them. I’ll get shanked in my sleep. Just put me in Block One.”

“You’ll go where you’ve been assigned,” said Sawamura. He grabbed another orange shirt off a hook on the wall and tossed it at Oikawa, who caught it with a fumble. “Put that on. You’re required to have your name and number visible at all times. If you don’t, it’s a point. Or if the guard is having a bad day, it’s a night in solitary.”

Oikawa wasn’t about to argue with that logic. He yanked the shirt over his head and tugged it into place. It was slightly big, and extremely hideous. Orange was not his color. 

“What the fuck?” said Semi, pointing. Oikawa looked down, where a number was stamped down the left side of his chest. He assumed it matched the one on his back. “You’re putting this guy in Block One?”

“If you say one more word you won’t be going in any cellblocks,” snapped Sawamura. “I don’t care how much time you’ve served here. As of today you’re fresh meat again. Shut your mouth and do as you’re told.”

Semi looked like he was going to keep arguing. His scowl was knife-blade sharp and his grip on the shirt was a fist. He stared down Sawamura for a few tense seconds, then pulled the shirt on with a huff. “If you want me to make it through the night you might want to have one of your guys watch out for me.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Sawamura. “Asahi, you can go back to your post. I’ve got them.”

The other guard nodded and hustled away. He seemed relieved.

Semi folded his arms. His glare slid toward Oikawa, lingering on the numbers printed on his shirt. 

Oikawa would have willingly handed it over.

Sawamura hefted a stack of uniforms and held them out to Semi, who accepted them with clear reluctance. “I won’t bother with the tour. You know where you’re going.”

“Fine,” mumbled Semi. He slammed the door open with his shoulder, but before he stepped into the hall, Sawamura spoke again.

“Tanaka is on Block Two tonight,” he said. “I’ll have him keep an eye out, just in case.”

Semi’s scowl didn’t abate, but he gave a small nod before slipping through the door.

Sawamura lifted another stack of uniforms and pushed them into Oikawa’s arms. “Here. You’re responsible for taking them to laundry before you run out of clean clothes. They’ll get sent back to you within a couple days of dropping them off. I’ll take you to your cellblock and one of the guys will show you where the cafeteria is in the morning. Breakfast is at seven-thirty sharp. If you miss it, you go hungry.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa. He shifted the uniforms into a more secure grip. 

Sawamura considered him, frowning. “If you have any problems let one of us know. I mean real problems, not to complain about a lumpy mattress or your cellmate’s snoring. If something serious is going on we’ll take care of it.”

Some of the tension in Oikawa’s chest eased. “Right,” he said. “Thanks.”

Sawamura waved him off. “Come on, then. Time to see your new home.”

  
  
  
  
  
The vision floating in Oikawa’s mind was painted with iron bars, vicious eyes, and the danger of darkness.

That vision didn’t match up to reality.

His “new home”, as Sawamura called it, was a large room that housed several pair of beds, sectioned off by chest-high walls. There were no cell doors and no other barriers. It was more of a communal area than anything else, and Oikawa was confused. 

“We missed lights out,” Sawamura said as he paced the aisle between the cells. 

Oikawa looked up. The lights weren’t off.

“We can’t turn them off completely,” said Sawamura, guessing the direction of his thoughts. “Who knows what kind of bullshit would happen in the dark. We dim them at night. Hope you can sleep with the lights on.” He paused in front of a cell and waved Oikawa in. “This one’s yours. Get some rest. Your cellmate will take you to breakfast in the morning. Right, Shirabu?”

The man in the occupied bed looked to be asleep, but at the mention of his name he cracked open a single eyelid. He didn’t respond, but when he looked to Oikawa, his attention sharpened.

“Good luck,” said Sawamura, backing out of the room. “There’s always a guard on-duty in every cellblock in case of an emergency. But don’t get out of bed unless it’s a matter of life or death. Otherwise you’ll be spending the night somewhere much less comfortable.” 

Oikawa had at least fifteen questions, all of them edged with anxiety, but Sawamura was gone before he could give voice to a single one. He stared at the vacant bed, cradling his spare uniforms close to his chest, and slid a glance at his cellmate.

Shirabu was staring at him through narrow eyes. “You’re not Semi.”

Oikawa wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

A head popped over the adjoining wall, bright eyes beneath a fall of brighter hair. “Where’s Semi-Semi?”

Oikawa looked around, as if Semi would suddenly appear. “He’s, uh… he got assigned to Block Two.”

“Block Two?” The man’s eyes went even wider. “Block _Two_? Shit.” He dipped out of sight, but his voice was clear when he said, “Wakatoshi!”

“Tendou, shut up,” hissed Shirabu. 

The warning was too late.

“It’s lights out!” The shout came from across the room, from the guard station. “That means keep your asses in bed and go to sleep. I’ll hand out points to every single one of you!”

The cell beside them fell silent. Oikawa dropped his clothes at the foot of his bed and curled up on the middle of the mattress.

He realized why Sawamura had told him not to complain about the quality of his sleeping arrangements. It wasn’t good.

He kicked off his shoes – slip-ons, the same tacky color as his uniform – and slipped beneath the single threadbare sheet. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least he felt somewhat safe. If everyone was confined to their bunks for the duration of the night, there was no danger of anyone ganging up on him.

His only current concern was Shirabu, who still glared at him from across the tiny cell.

Oikawa wanted to roll away from him, but was afraid he’d get a knife in the back.

“Why’d they put him in Two?” asked Shirabu. It was a whisper, but easy to hear in the silence of the cellblock.

Oikawa glanced at the door, to make sure there was no guard watching them.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “They didn’t say.”

Shirabu considered that, his stare unwavering. “He won’t be there long.” It was a statement of certainty. Shirabu hitched the sheets up and rolled over, presenting Oikawa with the back of his head.

Oikawa released a breath. He realized only when his muscles unknotted just how tense he’d been. He laid his head back and stared at the ceiling, where the dim lights glowed in curved alcoves. 

It wasn’t daylight-bright, but it certainly wasn’t dark, either.

Faintly, he heard a drumming sound that may have been rain pelting against the roof. It could have also been the central heating system, or some other device that he would quickly get used to. 

He supposed he would get used to the nighttime lights, too. He had a long while to get acclimated. 

Oikawa pressed his back against the wall, nestled into the flat pillow, and tried to get some sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
It was a losing battle. 

Oikawa dozed on and off through the night, but never fell into a solid sleep. Each time he was on the cusp he would startle back into full awareness, triggered by nothing more than his own anxiety. Each time his eyes shot open, Shirabu was still lying in the same position, only his back visible. 

After the first couple of hours, Oikawa was convinced that Shirabu wasn’t going to kill him in his sleep.

Regardless, his mind wouldn’t settle.

There were no windows in the cellblock. Oikawa only knew morning had arrived when the lights flared more brightly, startling even behind his closed eyelids. There was no alarm, or other indication that it was time to rise. Nothing else was needed. All around him were the sounds of stirring inmates, mostly the creak of old mattresses paired with the occasional sleepy mumble.

Shirabu rolled out of bed briskly, not a trace of weariness on his face. He didn’t even look at Oikawa as he stretched upright and slipped into his shoes. 

“Roll call,” said Shirabu, as he took the three steps to the door. “Move or you’ll get a point.”

That was a good motivator. Oikawa scrambled to his feet and followed. Shirabu stood in the hallway, his back against the wall. Oikawa followed his example and took up a post on the opposite side of the door. A guard had left the station on the far end of the room and was moving toward the aisle between the cells, his hair mussed and his eyes tired. 

Oikawa kept his gaze toward the floor as the man passed by, eyeing each of them in turn. When he moved on Oikawa glanced after him, only to realize he was being watched by a different set of eyes.

The wild-eyed man from the night before observed him through a mess of red hair. Shirabu had called him Tendou, and that was the name printed on his uniform.

Tendou tilted his head at Oikawa and said, “Too bad we have to trade you in for Semi-Semi. You look like you’d be a lot of fun.”

Oikawa’s stomach twisted in dread. It must have shown on his face because Tendou cackled.

“Don’t torment him, Satori.” 

The voice was deep, a rumble reminiscent of the thunder that had shaken the sky the night before. Oikawa looked past Tendou to the man that must have been his cellmate. He was tall; taller than Oikawa, which was a rarity. He was also broad, and his face was set into a mask of passivity. The name on his uniform was Ushijima.

“C’mon, Wakatoshi,” said Tendou, his grin unnerving. “We haven’t gotten any newbies since Kenjirou, and he was always a drag. Let me have a little fun.”

The look on Shirabu’s face suggested his given name was Kenjirou.

“Leave him be,” said Ushijima. He took one last look at Oikawa before stepping back into his cell.

Tendou quirked a brow at Oikawa and bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile before following. Shirabu slipped back into their room, and Oikawa stumbled over himself in his haste to follow.

Shirabu grabbed a toothbrush off of the table by his bed, tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt, and headed for the door again.

“Hey, wait,” said Oikawa.

The glare he received made him regret speaking.

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and said, “That guard last night… Sawamura, I think… he said you would show me where the cafeteria is.”

“It’s down the hallway,” said Shirabu. 

“I don’t know where-”

“I don’t have time for this.” With no further explanation, Shirabu ducked out of the cell. Oikawa could still see his head past the low wall until he reached the end of the cellblock and passed through the door by the guard station.

Oikawa stared after him, then looked helplessly around the cell. His clothes had fallen into a rumpled pile on the floor, but he made no move to pick them up. It didn’t matter much if they got wrinkled. Nothing mattered much, overall.

“I’ll take you to breakfast, newbie.”

Oikawa knew who said it before he even looked up.

“Maybe I’ll just ask a guard instead,” said Oikawa.

Tendou snorted. “Sure. Ask a guard, see where that gets ya. They don’t like being bothered.” He leaned his elbows on the wall that separated their cells, chin propped on his arms. “Do you want to walk with me or not? I don’t bite.”

The way he peeled his lips back to flash his teeth suggested otherwise.

Oikawa badly wanted to decline, but he could think of no other option.

“Okay,” he said after a dragging pause. 

“Great!” said Tendou brightly. He swaggered out of his cell and draped himself across the doorway of Oikawa’s. “Come along then, little sheep. I’ll herd you to the right field.”

Oikawa wanted nothing more than to plop down on his flat bed and lay there for the next two years. He didn’t want to deal with Tendou, or anyone else in this place. 

But again, he had no other option.

He walked alongside Tendou, out of the cellblock and through a couple of adjoining hallways. Through the entire walk, Tendou watched him out of the corner of his eye, his smile unwavering. His presence itself was unnerving, and Oikawa was relieved when they reached the cafeteria.

“C’mon,” said Tendou, pointing him toward the far end of the large room. “We need to hurry and get in line before Block Four gets here. They always try to take extra.”

As much as Oikawa wanted to break away from Tendou, he supposed it was better to be with him than to wander around alone in a strange, dangerous place.

They filed into line behind a pair of men whose uniforms marked them as occupants of Cellblock Two. The shorter one, bleached-blond with “Kyoutani” printed across his back, glanced back at Tendou. His lip curled into a snarl.

“Bad dog,” chided Tendou, still grinning. “Didn’t your handler tell you to be nice to us?”

Kyoutani’s teeth flashed, but his companion – Yahaba, according to his uniform – nudged him with an elbow and hissed something sharp under his breath. Kyoutani turned to face the front, and Tendou chuckled.

“Got in a fight with him once,” said Tendou, leaning close to confide the information in a whisper. “We both got thrown into solitary for a week. It wasn’t so bad, though. Our tiny little cells were right beside each other. I talked all night every night and kept him awake.”

He grinned like it was something to be proud of, and Oikawa had an urge to put as much distance between himself and Tendou as physically possible.

“Oh, look, we’re getting closer,” said Tendou as the line shuffled forward. He took a deep breath. “Smells like waffles. Do you like waffles, Oikawa-kun?”

“They’re okay.”

Tendou hummed. “Prepare to be disappointed. Everything here sucks.”

Oikawa didn’t know if that was true or of Tendou was just messing with him.

When they reached the front of the line and a tray was pushed across the counter, Oikawa thought the statement had been true. The food did not look promising.

“Don’t forget your milk carton,” said Tendou, plopping one onto Oikawa’s tray. “It’s like elementary school all over again. Only with better company.”

That was arguable, but Oikawa said nothing.

“Come on, we always sit over here,” said Tendou, pointing with his chin. “You can hang out with our cellblock. At least for now, until you get booted.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Oikawa, trailing along after him. He glanced around at the other occupants of the cafeteria, expecting them to glare at the new arrival, but they paid no attention to him.

“It means your stay in Cellblock One is temporary,” said Tendou. He dropped his tray onto the table and perched on the round seat. Ushijima and Shirabu were there, along with a few other inmates that Oikawa didn’t recognize. The strangers spared him a glance, but otherwise didn’t react as he took the seat beside Tendou. 

“What do you mean, temporary?” said Oikawa, lowering his voice.

“You ask a lot of questions,” said Tendou. He tapped his spork against the edge of his tray. “Are you a cat? Because the curiosity might kill you.” He grinned as he said it, the flash of his teeth sinister.

“I told you not to harass him, Satori,” said Ushijima from across the table. He eyed Tendou with disapproval.

“I’m doing no such thing,” said Tendou. “I’ve been nothing but helpful. Right, Oikawa-kun?”

Oikawa didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the correct answer was.

Ushijima’s stare was heavy. “How long are you here, Oikawa?”

“Two years.” Oikawa tried not to cringe as he said it. “Determinate sentence, no parole.”

“That isn’t long,” said Ushijima. “You will be fine as long as you do not cause trouble.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Ushijima’s face didn’t change. “No one ever plans to, yet here we are.”

Oikawa stared down at his food. He couldn’t deny the truth in that statement.

“Don’t be so glum,” said Tendou brightly. “Things could be worse.”

“How?” mumbled Oikawa.

“You could be in max security,” said Tendou. “That’s somewhere you don’t want to be. Trust me.”

He said it with the conviction of experience, and Oikawa wanted to ask what Tendou had done to end up in prison.

But he didn’t think that was a good question to ask someone in their position, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Hey, guys. Can I sit?”

Oikawa glanced over his shoulder to find Semi, the man he’d met on the bus the day before. There was a half-smile on his face. The bitterness from the night before was gone, but in its place were dark circles that suggested he hadn’t slept.

“Semi-semi!” chirped Tendou, a grin splitting his face. He was clearly going to continue, but swallowed the words as Ushijima rose from his seat.

Ushijima circled the table, his steps slow and measured. He stopped directly in front of Semi, his face unreadable. “Put down your tray.”

The tentative smile fell away from Semi’s face. He did as he was told, placing the tray carefully beside Tendou’s, and faced Ushijima.

A few motionless seconds ticked by.

Finally Ushijima’s face changed. His brows tilted into a scowl, mouth slanting into a sharp frown. Without warning he backhanded Semi across the face.

The crack of skin against skin brought silence to the cafeteria. 

Semi staggered back, clutching at his cheek and staring up at Ushijima with wide eyes. Fear flashed across his face, and when Ushijima took a step closer, Semi cowered back.

“You are a fool, Semi Eita,” said Ushijima, his voice low and harsh. “I told you not to come back here.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Semi. He glanced sideways at Tendou, who’d gone pale. 

“Do not lie to me,” said Ushijima. “I know what you did. I know how you got here.”

Semi looked as if he wanted to protest, but the weight of Ushijima’s stare left him mute.

“Hey!” A prison guard approached, hand hovering over the taser on his belt. “What’s going on here?”

Oikawa wished he’d just stayed in bed after all.

Ushijima’s stare lingered on Semi, briefly, before he turned to address the guard. “Nothing. Everything here is fine.”

The guard, who had a mess of dark hair and a spray of freckles, looked between the two of them in clear speculation.

Semi dropped his hand away from his face and shook his head. “Nothing,” he repeated. “Nothing happened. We were just talking. Sorry for the disturbance.”

The guard – the nameplate above his right breast pocket read “Yamaguchi T.” – eyed the red mark on the side of Semi’s face and looked back to Ushijima.

“You heard him,” said Ushijima. “Nothing happened.”

Yamaguchi wavered, still glancing between them, clearly torn. At length he took a step back and said, “Okay then. But I’m watching you. If you cause a disturbance again, you’re both getting points.”

Ushijima inclined his head in acceptance and Yamaguchi walked away, returning to his post by the door.

Ushijima circled back to his side of the table and reclaimed his seat, dragging his tray closer. “Sit down, Semi. Your food will get cold.”

Semi closed his eyes, and for a second Oikawa thought he was on the verge of tears. When he opened them, it seemed he was just overwhelmed with relief.

“Yes,” said Semi, moving to do as he said. “Thank you, Ushijima-san.”

“I will speak to the captain about your cellblock placement,” said Ushijima without looking at him. “You will be back in One before lights out tonight.”

“Thank you.”

Oikawa fidgeted in his seat. He had a feeling he knew exactly how Ushijima planned to go about that.

“That’s for the best,” said Tendou. He still seemed uncomfortable, but the worst of the tension had left his stiff posture. “You look rough, Semi-Semi. Did you sleep?”

“Of course I didn’t sleep,” grumbled Semi, scowling down at his tray. “They put me in a fucking cell with Iwaizumi.”

Tendou winced. “Ouch. I wouldn’t have slept, either.”

“Iwaizumi would not have harmed you,” said Ushijima. 

Semi glanced up at him. “When did that change?”

“We made an agreement,” said Ushijima, “several months ago. We will remain on good terms, as long as he keeps his side of the bargain.”

“And you actually trust him?”

Ushijima nodded. “I do.”

Tendou’s expression soured. “I still wouldn’t turn my back on him. Not unless I wanted a knife in it. He’s a scary guy.”

Semi started to answer, but looked past Tendou and noticed Oikawa. “What’s newbie doing here?”

“Where else am I supposed to be?” said Oikawa, poking at his food. “It’s not like I can get up and leave.”

Tendou laughed, so suddenly that Oikawa was startled.

“I like him,” said Tendou, flashing a smile at Ushijima across the table. “Can we keep him? Please?”

“Only if you’re willing to let Semi stay in Block Two,” said Ushijima.

Tendou sighed. “Fine. It’s a worthy sacrifice.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Semi drily.

“Why do you guys keep talking about this like you’re trading me in?” asked Oikawa. “Can you even do that?”

“Technically no,” said Ushijima. “Cellblock assignments are final.”

“Then why-”

“I am going to do it anyway,” said Ushijima, cutting him off. “I apologize that it is an inconvenience for you. Goshiki will be released soon. When he is gone, I can arrange to have you transferred back, if you’d like.”

“There won’t be any need for that,” said Tendou with a taunting smile. “If he gets switched with Semi, that means Iwaizumi will be his new cellmate. He’ll be done for by the time Tsutomu is gone.”

The pit of anxiety in Oikawa’s stomach, which had been birthed the moment he was arrested and had persisted up until now, dipped into black dread. “What?”

“Do not listen to him,” said Ushijima. “Tendou is only trying to scare you.”

Oikawa looked to Tendou, who silently mouthed the words, _I’m serious_. He drew a thumb across his long, pale throat.

“Hey, you going to eat that?” asked Semi, pointing at Tendou’s tray.

Tendou glanced over his shoulder, confirmed the guard wasn’t watching, and transferred the food to Semi’s tray. “It’s good to have you back, Semi-Semi.”

Semi paused, a bite of food suspended halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Tendou and then frowned down at the table. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Hang on,” said Oikawa. He gripped his spork too tightly. “What do you mean I’ll be ‘done for’? What’s wrong with this Iwaizumi person?”

“Nothing is wrong with him,” said Ushijima calmly.

It was a stark contrast to Tendou’s response, which was a wide-eyed, “He’s a fucking lunatic.”

“Tendou.”

“What? C’mon, Wakatoshi, the man needs to be prepared!” Tendou whirled back to face Oikawa. “I’m a little creepy. I know this, and I accept it. Iwaizumi isn’t creepy, he’s just downright _scary_. I’d rather be trapped in a dark alley with Jason than Iwaizumi.”

“Jason?”

“Serial killer,” said Tendou. He gestured at his face. “Hockey mask. You know, in the horror movies.”

Oikawa did not know, but he didn’t like the sound of that.

“Usually Tendou is being dramatic,” said Semi, “but I’ll give him this one. I’ve been on Iwaizumi’s bad side, and I don’t plan to be there again.” He hooked a finger into his bottom lip and yanked it down, exposing a row of teeth. One of his molars was missing. “He hit me so hard that it just fucking popped out. I spat blood and my tooth hit the pavement. He just looked at it and walked away, like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Oikawa’s stomach swooped lower, his skin prickling with dread.

“If I recall,” said Ushijima, unimpressed, “you were the one who started that fight.”

Semi opened his mouth to protest, but Tendou fluttered a hand in his face. “Doesn’t matter. The point still stands. Just make it through the next few weeks, Oikawa-kun. If you’re still alive, you can come back to One and hang out with the cool kids again.”

He said it as if the promise was supposed to be encouraging.

Oikawa just felt the urge to vomit.

“Sure,” he mumbled, staring down at his remaining breakfast with a distinct lack of appetite. “Great.”

The rest of the table dissolved into conversation. It strayed toward Semi, who spoke of his time on the outside. He was reluctant at first, throwing uncertain glances at Ushijima every couple of minutes. Once he got started, though, he plowed into his tales eagerly. Everything he’d done was average; dull, almost. 

Oikawa supposed that after spending two years in this godforsaken prison, he would be just as excited to go to a movie theater, too.

“I went to visit your parents, Tsutomu,” said Semi, addressing the youngest man at their table who’d arrived only a few minutes before. “Just like I told you I would. They were happy to hear about you. They can’t wait for you to come home. Your mom said she’ll have your favorite flounder waiting for you.”

Tsutomu – Goshiki, according to his uniform – hadn’t said a word since he sat at the table. He didn’t speak now. He simply burst into tears.

“Shit,” mumbled Semi. “Sorry, Tsutomu, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” said Goshiki, the words garbled by his tears. “Thank you, Semi-senpai.”

Semi still looked uneasy, even after Goshiki pulled himself together. He stopped telling stories, focusing on his food instead.

Meal time ended a few minutes later, and the inmates started trickling out of the cafeteria. Oikawa followed along after Tendou, because he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do.

They retraced their steps back to Cellblock One, and Oikawa felt confident he could find his way back to the cafeteria from there without further guidance.

That wouldn’t matter for long, though. Not if he was just going to be transferred to another block.

And possibly murdered in his sleep.

Tendou collected a spare uniform and draped it over his shoulders. “Shower time, Oikawa-kun. Grab some clothes and let’s go.”

Oikawa balked. 

“I, umm… do I have to?”

Tendou’s eyebrows rose. “Oho? Are you shy?”

“Of course not,” said Oikawa, not quite looking at him. “I just… I showered right before I got in last night. I’m fine for now.”

Tendou’s suggestive smile didn’t fade. “Whatever you say.”

“Wait,” said Oikawa, stopping Tendou before he could walk away. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Tendou shrugged. “Whatever you want, I guess.”

“Is there somewhere I’m supposed to be?” asked Oikawa. “Are we supposed to stay here in our cells, or…?”

“Nah,” said Tendou. “Meal times, morning showers, and lights out are the only things on a strict schedule. Classes and stuff too, but you don’t have any of those yet. You seem smart enough, it’s not like you need GED classes or anything.”

That was good information, but it still didn’t answer Oikawa’s question. “So… I’m just supposed to sit in here until lunch?”

“If you want,” said Tendou. “Or you can wander around, or go outside. Neither of which I would recommend considering you’re fresh meat. Actually yeah, you should probably just sit here until lunch.”

“Great,” grumbled Oikawa.

“Don’t look so down,” said Tendou with a grin. “You’ve only got two years. I’ve been here for seven already. It’s not so bad.” He waggled his fingers in a wave before pacing off toward the door.

Oikawa watched him go. When he was alone, he dragged his feet into his cell, slouched onto his bed, and prepared himself for a long, uncomfortable two years.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the longest morning of Oikawa’s life.

He stared at the ceiling for a few endless hours, quietly frustrated by the discomfort of his bed. Some of the other inmates in Cellblock One had returned from their morning showers. He heard them talking a few cells down, laughing while they played some sort of game.

Oikawa didn’t entertain the idea of joining them. If he wasn’t going to be in this Block for longer than one day, there was no point trying to mingle with his fellow inmates. He would just wait until he was reassigned, and then try not to get murdered.

Tendou returned a few minutes before noon to fetch him for lunch, and Oikawa was silently grateful. He likely could have found his way back to the cafeteria, but he didn’t know what time the meal was served or who he was supposed to sit with. He assumed it was okay to stick with the Block One table for now, but he wasn’t certain about anything.

After lunch, which progressed much the same as breakfast, Tendou and Semi wandered down a hallway Oikawa hadn’t seen, and he trailed along after them.

They were about to branch into an adjacent corridor when Tendou turned and raised a brow at him. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Oikawa-kun, but I haven’t seen Semi-Semi in over a year. I’d like to have some alone time with him. Maybe you can join in next time, okay?”

“What?”

Tendou nodded at Semi and made an obscene gesture, his face split by a grin. 

Oikawa paled. “Oh. I didn’t – I’m not-”

Tendou cackled and Semi jammed an elbow into his ribs.

“Shut up, Tendou. He’ll tell the guards on us.”

“Oikawa-kun won’t tell anyone,” said Tendou. He leered at Oikawa. “Right?”

“Right,” said Oikawa, backing away. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“See, Semi-Semi?” said Tendou. He slid an arm across Semi’s shoulders and steered him forward. “Later, Oikawa-kun.”

Oikawa watched them go, stuck in place by a blend of surprise and confusion. 

He’d heard stories about such things happening in prisons. Everyone had.

In the stories, though, it was never consensual.

A guard passed by the end of the hallway a few minutes later and Oikawa finally moved, following his path back toward the cafeteria. 

At least, he thought that was the way he was going. 

He ended up at a set of doors that led outside. After his initial surprise that they appeared to be unlocked, he realized it was the entrance to the fenced-in yard that he’d seen the night before. There were thick windows on either side of the doors and he stepped up to peer through.

The inmates beyond were clustered into small groups, and though he couldn’t make out the numbers on their uniforms, he assumed they were sorted by Cellblock. Some of them sat in the grass, others at time-worn picnic tables shaded by the building’s overhang. Several were on the basketball court and several more walked the circular trail that followed the shape of the high, barbed fence.

It looked nice. Peaceful, even. Oikawa thought about stepping outside, just to get a breath of the fresh air that he’d thought he would be denied for the next two years. But he saw no one from Block One through the window, and he was afraid that these men wouldn’t want him there. He decided it was best to find his way back to his cell and wait for Tendou to come back. 

He turned to do just that, but found a pair of strangers standing in his way, looking at him with identical grins.

Oikawa was immediately uneasy. He tried to step back, but the window was directly behind him. There was nowhere to retreat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said one of the men, his smile lighting up his face. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?” 

Oikawa checked the writing stamped on their uniforms. They were Bokuto and Kuroo, of Cellblocks Four and Three, respectively.

He wondered what they were doing together. He’d gotten the impression that members of different Cellblocks didn’t voluntarily mingle.

“Yes,” said Oikawa, because it would have been obvious if he’d lied. All of the inmates had been caged up together for a while. They knew if someone was new. “I just got here last night.”

“Kuroo, he just got here last night!” repeated Bokuto. It was unnecessary. Clearly his friend had heard Oikawa just fine.

“You don’t say.” Kuroo’s grin sharpened into a leer. “How’s the place treating you so far?”

“Fine, I guess?” said Oikawa, uncertain. He glanced to the side and wondered if they would physically stop him if he tried to push past. 

“Doesn’t sound very convincing, does it, Bo?”

Bokuto shook his head.

“We’ll fix that,” said Kuroo. “We like to make the new inmates feel at home. Come on, we’ll give you the full welcome package.”

That sounded nice enough, but the look on Kuroo’s face didn’t match up. 

“No thanks,” said Oikawa airily. “I was heading back to my Cellblock. I’ll just be going.”

He took a step forward, but Bokuto stepped up to block his way. “C’mon, man,” said Bokuto. “We do this for all the new guys. We’re just trying to help you out, you know? We know what it’s like to be new.”

He was more earnest than Kuroo, his eyes wide and bright. 

Oikawa still didn’t want to go.

“I don’t think-”

“It won’t take long,” said Kuroo, slinging an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. “Promise. We’ll walk you to your Cellblock when we’re finished. You’ll be back in no time.”

Bokuto stepped up on his other side and layered his arm over Kuroo’s, the weight across Oikawa’s shoulders doubling. “Yeah, no time!”

Oikawa wanted to duck away from them and run back to the safety of his cell, but he didn’t think that would go well for him. It didn’t seem he had much of a choice.

“Okay,” he said, reluctant. “As long as it doesn’t take very long.”

“Yes!” shouted Bokuto, pumping a fist in the air. “He said he’ll go, Kuroo!”

“Yeah, I heard him. Right this way, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa almost asked how they knew his name, but remembered it was printed on his uniform. He didn’t think he was very fond of that. He liked having an easy way to know everyone else’s names, but wished he could keep his own to himself.

Bokuto and Kuroo led him down a hallway, and he was fairly sure it was the opposite direction of his Cellblock. That was confirmed when they passed a doorway marked with a large 3. 

“That’s where I live,” said Kuroo, gesturing as they passed. “Bo’s is the next one, but we won’t get that far.”

They passed several other inmates on their way, some of which traded quick greetings with Oikawa’s forcible companions as they passed. A couple of guards paced by, sparing them only a searching look before continuing on their way.

The guards didn’t seem very concerned about what the inmates were doing.

Oikawa wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Here we are!” announced Kuroo, when they arrived at a closed door. There had once been a windowpane in the center, but it had been busted out and was now just a hollow square. Kuroo reached through, unlocked the door from the inside, and gestured toward the room.

“Are we allowed to go in?” asked Oikawa, not moving.

“Yeah, of course!” said Bokuto. “We do it all the time.”

Oikawa wasn’t so sure, but Bokuto strode into the room as if he belonged there, and Oikawa had little choice but to follow. 

It was as if he’d stepped into a second-rate version of a barber shop. There was a swiveling salon chair that had seen better days, a short counter topped by a wall mirror, and an array of supplies such as combs, razors, and clippers.

“What is this?” asked Oikawa, hesitating.

Kuroo pushed him further in and pulled the door closed. “The prison doesn’t want to waste money on barbers so they let us do our own hair. Yamamoto usually runs it, he’s pretty good.”

Oikawa glanced at the counter again, lingering on the sharp blades of the scissors. “Are you sure we’re allowed to come in here?”

“Technically the shop only opens a couple times a week, and only under guard supervision,” admitted Kuroo. “But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Have a seat.”

Oikawa didn’t move. “Excuse me?”

“He said have a seat,” supplied Bokuto, patting the back of the chair. “We’re going to give you the traditional Welcome-To-Prison Haircut.”

“And by that,” said Kuroo, “he means we’re going to shave your head.” He gave Oikawa another push. “Go on, sit.”

Oikawa flailed back, but Kuroo was still between him and the door. “What the fuck? No.”

“We didn’t ask for your permission,” said Kuroo. “Come on, man. You didn’t think you could just leave your hair that way, did you? It’s prison.”

Oikawa gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Your hair is longer than mine!”

“I earned this hair,” said Kuroo, slipping his fingers through the mess atop his head. “You’ll earn yours back, but first it’s getting shaved off. Put him in the chair, Bo.”

“Fuck you,” spat Oikawa, backpedaling as Bokuto approached. Oikawa pushed Kuroo aside and started for the door, but an iron grip clamped around his arm and yanked him back.

Oikawa was not a weak man. Since he’d been arrested a few months ago he’d lost some of his muscle tone, but it wasn’t a catastrophic difference. He was tall and strong, and he’d rarely known anyone who could physically overpower him.

Bokuto happened to be one of those people.

He half-lifted, half-dragged Oikawa across the room, unaffected by long, flailing limbs fighting against him. 

“Let me go!” shouted Oikawa, kicking back. He drove his heel into Bokuto’s thigh, but he didn’t waver. He tossed Oikawa into the chair, the impact knocking the breath from Oikawa’s lungs. He lunged forward, but Bokuto shoved him down, pinning his shoulders against the chair. 

“He’s feisty,” said Bokuto with a grin. 

“Not for long,” said Kuroo. He stepped past Bokuto and selected one of several pairs of clippers on the counter. He flicked a switch, they buzzed to life in his hand, and he grinned at Oikawa. “Say goodbye to your hair, pretty boy.”

Oikawa pushed against Bokuto, but he was unmovable. He was solid and sturdy, and even when Oikawa kneed him in the stomach, Bokuto’s only response was a small huff.

Kuroo stepped around the chair, out of sight, but Oikawa knew where he was by the buzz of the clippers. Something touched Oikawa’s hair and he flinched away, but it was only Kuroo’s fingers combing through. 

“Hold still so I don’t make a mess of you.”

“Fuck you,” spat Oikawa.

“Maybe some other time,” said Kuroo, his smile obvious in the tone of his voice. He gripped Oikawa’s jaw with one hand and forced his head against the back of the chair. The buzzing got louder as the clippers moved close and Oikawa pulled in a breath to scream.

Just before the clippers touched him, just before the panic left his lungs, a new voice said, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The clippers retreated. The grip on Oikawa’s jaw fell away and he wrenched his head toward the door, hoping a guard had found them.

The stranger definitely wasn’t a guard.

He stood just inside the doorway, thick arms folded over a broad chest. There was little expression on his face, but dark brows were pulled together in the beginning of a scowl. He glanced at Oikawa, his eyes sharp, before refocusing on Kuroo. 

“Iwaizumi-san,” said Kuroo, his bluster fading. The clippers cut into silence and Oikawa exhaled a breath of relief. “Can we help you?”

Bokuto’s hands fell away from Oikawa’s shoulders and he took a step back. He seemed oddly subdued compared to his attitude of a moment before.

Iwaizumi said nothing. He continued to stare at Kuroo, waiting.

“We were just having a little fun with the fresh meat,” said Kuroo. His smile looked forced. “We didn’t hurt him. Right, Bo?”

“Right,” said Bokuto. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was clearly uneasy. “Just messing around.”

“Well mess around somewhere else,” said Iwaizumi. “Newbie, move.”

It took Oikawa a second too long to realize he was being addressed. He stumbled out of the chair and away from Bokuto and Kuroo, the latter of whom seemed irritated.

“What the hell, man?” said Kuroo. “We’re not bothering anybody. What do you care, anyway? He’s in Ushijima’s Block. If anyone’s going to have a bitch fit over it then it should be him.”

Iwaizumi slid a glance at the numbers on Oikawa’s uniform. “I just talked to Ushijima. Newbie is getting transferred to Block Two, which means you’re fucking around with one of mine.”

Bokuto seemed to shrink a little. He looked to Kuroo, whose eyes narrowed. 

“I already said we weren’t going to hurt him.” Kuroo lowered the clippers to his side, but his grip was still tight. “What’s the big deal?”

“You need to mind your own business,” said Iwaizumi. “That’s the big deal.” Iwaizumi nodded toward the door, eyes still on Kuroo. “Out, newbie.”

Oikawa wasn’t about to argue with him. He slipped past Iwaizumi, heart in his throat, and stepped into the hallway. A few more words were exchanged inside, each one snappier than the last, until Iwaizumi appeared beside him.

“Go back to your cell until dinner,” said Iwaizumi. “If Kuroo catches you alone again he’ll fuck with you out of spite.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa, studying Iwaizumi as best he could without looking directly at him. He remembered what Tendou had said about him earlier, and how Semi had been afraid to sleep in the same cell. 

Oikawa could see why they felt that way.

Iwaizumi’s presence was imposing, like the gravity around him was a little too thick. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and the skin down to his wrists was layered in tattoos. They were on his neck too, creeping up toward his hair, and there was a single black teardrop etched beneath his left eye.

Oikawa didn’t know much about tattoos, but he knew what that one meant.

“What’re you staring at?” snapped Iwaizumi.

Oikawa quickly looked away. “Nothing. I just, umm… Block One is back that way, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“This place isn’t that big, newbie. Any idiot can find his way around.”

“I just got here last night.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still common sense.” He pointed the opposite way that Oikawa had indicated. “That way. Past Block Three, take a right, pass the cafeteria and keep going.”

“Got it,” said Oikawa. “Right.”

Iwaizumi was still staring at him; Oikawa could feel it. “You have no idea where to go, do you?”

“Not… really.”

“Fuckin’ fine,” muttered Iwaizumi. “Come on.”

He led them back through the hallways, and Oikawa obediently followed. Iwaizumi was intimidating, but at least he wasn’t trying to shave Oikawa’s head. It was an improvement over his previous company.

“Thanks,” said Oikawa, when they’d walked by the cafeteria and he had a better idea of where he was.

Iwaizumi didn’t respond. He scuffed to a stop outside Cellblock Two and waved Oikawa forward. “It’s a straight line to One. If you can’t find your way from here then you’re even dumber than you look.”

That was a clear insult, but Oikawa couldn’t scrape up the nerve to be offended. “Got it.”

“Keep your head down,” said Iwaizumi. He spared Oikawa a quick glance before starting for the door of his own Cellblock. “Don’t go off with anyone like that. It’s stupid. It’s safest to assume everyone here is trying to take advantage of you.”

“Even you?” said Oikawa, the question slipping before he could stop himself.

Iwaizumi paused, but didn’t look back. “Yeah. Even me.” 

He stepped into Block Two and Oikawa was alone in the hallway. He lingered there for a few seconds, processing Iwaizumi’s advice, before heading toward Block One.

Tendou was there. He was sprawled on Shirabu’s bed, a portrait of relaxation.

“That was fast,” mumbled Oikawa as he sat on the edge of his own bed. His spare uniforms were still in the floor, and still he didn’t move to retrieve them.

Tendou hummed. “We almost got caught. I think that makes it more exciting, but Semi-Semi disagrees.”

That was more information that Oikawa needed. He slouched over and stared at the ceiling that he’d already memorized.

“What’re you all mopey about?” asked Tendou. “Mad because we didn’t make it a threesome? There’s always next time, Oikawa-kun.”

Oikawa continued to stare at the ceiling, but he felt Tendou’s leer from across the small cell. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“What’s your deal, then?”

“I’m in prison. Why would I be happy?”

“You don’t have to be happy,” said Tendou. “No one is when they first get here. You’re worse than you were an hour ago, though. What’s wrong?”

Oikawa sighed and rested an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light. “Some idiots cornered me and tried to shave my head.”

Bedsprings squeaked. Oikawa glanced to the side and found Tendou sitting at attention, leaning toward him. “What?”

“These two guys-”

“Who?”

“Uh,” said Oikawa, bemused by Tendou’s sudden intensity. “They were from Blocks Three and Four. Bokuto and-”

“Kuroo,” Tendou supplied, before Oikawa could say it. There was venom in his voice. 

“Yeah,” said Oikawa, uncertain. “You know him?”

“Of course I know him,” said Tendou, his eyes narrowing. “He’s in charge of Block Three. He used to be alright, but lately he’s been overstepping his bounds.” He frowned at Oikawa. “You’re not bald.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa ran a hand through his hair. It was limp and a little oily. It could use a good wash. “Iwaizumi stopped them.” 

Tendou’s eyes went wide again. “What?”

Oikawa told him what happened, and what Iwaizumi had said. Tendou listened with a strange look on his face and stood up as soon as he was finished talking.

“I’ve gotta find Wakatoshi,” said Tendou. “This is getting worse than we thought.”

“Wait!” said Oikawa, just before Tendou stepped out of the cell. “What about-”

“Just stay here,” said Tendou, waving him off. “No one will bother you.”

With that he was gone, and Oikawa was left alone again. 

If the rest of the inmates were this crazy, he had a feeling that was how he would spend most of his time.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa managed to catch a ten-minute nap before Shirabu stomped into the cell, gave him a flat look, and walked right back out.

Oikawa wondered why Semi even wanted to come back to this Cellblock. 

Tendou returned a short while after that, more subdued than usual, and walked Oikawa to the cafeteria for dinner.

Instead of keeping his head down while standing in line, Oikawa took the opportunity to look around at the other inmates who’d already taken their seats. 

The Block Two table wasn’t hard to find. Even in a group, Iwaizumi had a presence about him. He was talking, but from all the way across the room Oikawa couldn’t take a guess at what the conversation was about. Everyone at his table was listening, some of them intently, others with slight smiles. One of the men across the table – his close-cropped hair a strawberry blond – chimed in with a grin, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. He caught sight of Oikawa watching him and Oikawa quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in whatever Tendou was mumbling under his breath.

“Hey, Tendou?” said Oikawa.

“Hmm?”

“Is Iwaizumi going to kill me?”

Tendou looked past him, probably eyeing the Block Two table. “Who knows. Maybe.”

Oikawa frowned at him.

“It depends,” said Tendou, folding his arms. “You’ll probably be fine as long as you don’t disrespect him. Wakatoshi is at the top of the hierarchy here, but Iwaizumi is up there, too. That’s why Kuroo’s bullshit is kind of a big deal. He’s making enemies out of the wrong people. Don’t make the same mistake and you’ll be alright. Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or Iwaizumi might just cut your throat so he doesn’t have to keep a cellmate. I can’t remember what happened to his last one, but it might’ve been something like that.” 

Oikawa stared at him, waiting for some indication that he was joking.

Tendou shuffled along with the moving line and said nothing else.

Oikawa didn’t eat much. He was too anxious. He picked through his food for a while, and gladly handed it over when Semi asked for his leftovers. He even received a murmured “thanks”, which was likely as polite as Semi would ever be.

Despite Oikawa’s initial disdain, the guys in Cellblock One weren’t so bad. Even Tendou, who was a little loud and a little creepy, was nice enough. If he’d been able to stay with them, he thought maybe he would make it through his two-year sentence.

He didn’t know if he could survive Cellblock Two.

They left dinner to return to their Block, and a guard stopped Oikawa as soon as he stepped through the door. 

“Hey, are you Oikawa?” 

The man was shorter than Oikawa, sporting the same shaved haircut that he’d almost received a few hours earlier. The name on his uniform was Narita.

“Yeah,” said Oikawa, scuffing to a stop.

Narita shoved a pile of uniforms at him. Oikawa realized they were his own. “Here. You’ve been reassigned. When you turn your laundry in for cleaning they’ll fix the numbers. Do you need me to show you where Block Two is?”

Oikawa adjusted the armful of clothing. “No. I know how to get there.”

“You’d best get going, then. If you’re not in your bed by lights out you’ll get points. Doesn’t matter if you’re new.” He gestured toward the door, a clear order. 

“Right,” said Oikawa. He glanced to the side, where Tendou had stopped to listen. “I’ll go straight there.”

Narita nodded and returned to the guard station at the front of the Block.

Oikawa turned to leave, but a low, rumbling voice stopped him.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima studied him, face unreadable. “I have no ill intent toward you, but this is what I must do for now. As I said before, you are welcome to come back when we have an open bed. I can guarantee your return at that time.”

“Sure,” mumbled Oikawa, frowning down at his rumpled uniforms. “Thanks, Ushijima.” He stepped away from them, and Tendou’s singsong voice followed him out the door.

“Bye-bye, Oikawa-kun. Sleep with one eye open!”

That didn’t deserve a response, and Oikawa kept walking. 

He thought Tendou was probably joking.

Probably.

He passed Semi in the hallway halfway to Block Two, carrying his own, more neatly folded, uniforms. Oikawa intended to keep walking, but Semi scuffed to a stop, so Oikawa did the same. There were several stragglers wandering through the hallway, but no one spared them a passing glance.

Still, Semi looked around at them before saying, his voice low, “It sucks we have to kick you out of One like this. Usually we don’t care but you seem alright.”

That seemed to be quite a compliment coming from someone like Semi.

“Block Two wasn’t good for me because they already know I’m one of Ushijima’s guys,” said Semi. “It should be okay for you. You don’t have ties to anyone.”

“Sure,” said Oikawa, though he didn’t quite believe that. He thought it was going to be the opposite of okay. 

“Tendou told me what happened with Kuroo,” said Semi, lowering his voice even more. “Just watch yourself around him. Back in the day he wouldn’t mess with anyone who belonged to Ushijima, or even Iwaizumi. He’s getting bolder. Just avoid him and stick to this side of the prison. None of us are going to fuck with you, and Iwaizumi’s guys shouldn’t bother you, either.”

“Are you sure about that?” said Oikawa. “I seem to recall someone being afraid to sleep in the same cell as Iwaizumi because they thought they would get their throat cut.”

Semi’s flat frown was unimpressed. “That’s different. We have history. He doesn’t know you, so you get a clean slate.”

That didn’t make Oikawa feel any better.

Semi shrugged and freed up a hand to lightly slap Oikawa’s shoulder. “Good luck. You’ll be fine.”

“If I’ll be fine why do I need luck?” mumbled Oikawa, but Semi had already walked away.

Oikawa sighed, mentally braced himself, and made the last part of the short journey to Cellblock Two.

It was identical to Block One; all except for the people.

He stepped through a cloud of obnoxious laughter as he entered, the source not only some of his new cellmates, but also a pair of guards posted by the door. Oikawa paused, staring at the group in mild shock, until one of the guards noticed him.

“Hey, you the new guy?” he asked. He raised his chin to eye Oikawa, but the attempt to be authoritative was undermined by his short stature. His nameplate read “Nishinoya”. 

“Umm. Yes?” said Oikawa, eyes sliding to the pair of inmates, who wore matching grins. 

“Last bunk on the left,” said the other guard. His name was Tanaka, and Oikawa thought he’d seen him in Block One earlier that day.

“Right,” said Oikawa. “Thanks.”

There was another bubble of laughter as he walked away, and he couldn’t help thinking it was at his expense. 

He trekked down the single aisle, not glancing at the other cells as he passed by. They were structured the same as Block One, small cubes with open doorways. There were no iron bars in sight, and Oikawa was still amazed that he’d had such unrealistic expectations. 

Murmured voices floated from a couple of the cells, but Oikawa whisked past and stopped outside the last door on the left. There were two beds, one on each side, and they appeared just as flat and uncomfortable as the one he’d slept on the night before. He held his breath as he stepped inside, expecting to be knocked right back out into the hallway, but nothing happened. No one was there.

It was obvious which side of the room was occupied. The small table by the bed was topped by a scatter of items: pencils, paper scraps, and a pair of worn paperback books. The drawer was wedged open, and Oikawa caught a glimpse of snack bags inside. Spare uniforms were hanging in the corner. A couple of shirts had slipped off the rack and were in a wrinkled puddle in the floor. 

Oikawa stared for a few seconds too long, afraid to step into Iwaizumi’s personal space. When he did move, he kept to the extreme right side, careful not to cross the invisible line that cut down the middle of the small cell.

He placed his stack of uniforms on the end of the bed, reconsidered, and picked them up again. He shook out some of the wrinkles and hung them on the three-pronged rack nailed into his side of the room. He wondered if there had been one back in Block One that he’d been too anxious to notice.

He adjusted one of the twisted sleeves, stepped back to confirm they were in order, and nearly choked on a gasp when he caught sight of Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye.

He was standing in the doorway, as imposing as ever, his face set into a neutral scowl.

“Uhh…” Oikawa struggled to find words that wouldn’t give Iwaizumi any motivation to kill him while he slept. “I guess we’re roomies?”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Oikawa knew it as soon as it left his mouth. Iwaizumi’s scowl went darker and he scuffed over to his side of the room, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a huff. “D’you snore?”

Oikawa blinked. “I, umm… I don’t think so?”

“Good,” said Iwaizumi. “Keep your shit on your side of the cell and don’t bother me.” He grabbed one of the books off of the table and leaned back against his flat pillow. He held the book aloft, scowl still etched into his face as he started reading.

Oikawa wanted to say something else. The silence was too heavy, pressing on him like he was at the bottom of the ocean. He could have asked Iwaizumi some questions about the prison, or offered information about himself, or thanked him for saving his hair a few hours before. 

But Iwaizumi clearly wanted quiet, and Oikawa didn’t want to know what would happen if he got on Iwaizumi’s bad side.

Oikawa paced over to his own bed and sat down, lacing his fingers together. He glanced at Iwaizumi and laid back to stare at the ceiling. It was the same way he’d spent the previous night, mapping out the marks and divots, devoting them to memory. He’d survived one day of prison. Only 729 more to go.

About fifteen minutes later the guards announced lights out. Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi, who simply turned a page and kept reading. His face had gone softer, the creases in his brow smoothing out. If it hadn’t been for the tattoo on his cheek and the ones on his neck, he may have looked like a normal guy.

When he noticed Oikawa’s staring, the scowl returned. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Oikawa, quickly looking back at the ceiling.

“Please tell me you’re not a fucking creep.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“You in here for something weird? Some kind of fucked up sex shit?”

“What? I’m – No!” sputtered Oikawa, pushing himself up on his elbows to gape at him. “Why would you – Do they let people like that stay here? I thought this place was for low-level offenders.”

“Low-risk,” corrected Iwaizumi. “To each other, not to the outside. If a guy likes terrorizing women they’ll still throw him in here because he’s not dangerous to the rest of us.”

“I’m not like that,” said Oikawa. “I’ve never done anything like that. I’m here for… something else.”

“We’re all here for something,” said Iwaizumi. “Some worse than others.”

Oikawa frowned. That didn’t sound like a question, but it still seemed like Iwaizumi was waiting for him to speak. 

Before he could decide, the lights went dim. It still wasn’t dark, because it was never dark, but it was a clear signal all the same. Iwaizumi folded down a page in his book and tossed it back on the table. 

“If you snore I’ll suffocate you with that pillow,” warned Iwaizumi, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.”

Oikawa mumbled an agreement and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. It wasn’t the safest way to sleep. Maybe Iwaizumi really would stab him in the back.

Maybe, but he didn’t think so.

It took Oikawa an hour to fall asleep. Iwaizumi’s breathing had long since grown into deep, low huffs of air from across the room. Oikawa focused on it, matched his own breath, and finally managed to drift off.


	3. Chapter 3

Oikawa got caught in the purgatory between sleep and consciousness, drifting on the tail wave of an unremembered dream. He couldn’t remember where he’d been in the dream, but now he was home, curled up on the couch in his living room, the early light of dawn brightening past his closed eyelids. There was a distant sound, and he assumed it was his cat, hopping around on the kitchen counters again. If Oikawa got up and walked in there she would be in the floor, all big eyes and innocence, regardless of the messy spray of silverware she’d knocked out of the dish drainer. Oikawa hated that cat, almost as much as he loved her.

“Yo, newbie.”

Oikawa’s nose scrunched. He burrowed closer into the pillow, wondering who was in his house. Had he brought someone home last night? He didn’t remember that, and he didn’t think he’d gotten drunk enough to make any bad decisions. 

A pillow thumped over Oikawa’s head and he sat straight up, eyes wide open and breath caught in his chest.

Iwaizumi frowned down at him. “You sleep like the fucking dead.”

Oikawa blinked, the scattered threads of his memories pulling together like loose stitches. “Oh,” he said. He dragged his attention away from Iwaizumi, studying the walls of the cell. “I’m here.”

“Huh?” said Iwaizumi. 

“Nothing.”

“Whatever. It’s roll call. Get up.” Iwaizumi stepped through the door of the cell, standing just beyond with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Oikawa rolled to his feet and followed. He reached up to arrange his hair, realized how oily it was, and dropped his hand down again. He took up his post at the opposite side of the entryway, too aware of the other inmates eyeing him from the other cells down the hall.

It seemed the guards had switched shifts. The one who paced past them was different, his hair bright silver. “Morning, Suga!” chirped one of the inmates. Oikawa recognized him from the night before, when he’d been laughing with the other guards. 

“Morning, Suga,” echoed another inmate, who still appeared half-asleep.

The guard didn’t respond to them, but a slight smile pulled at his mouth. He paced past, visually tallying the inmates, and paused for only a second to study Oikawa. Then he was gone again, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

Iwaizumi went back inside to step into his shoes, and Oikawa followed.

“Never touch my stuff when I’m not around,” said Iwaizumi, not looking at him. “You have your own space so stay out of mine.”

“Right,” said Oikawa. “Sure.”

That seemed to be an acceptable response. Iwaizumi started for the door again, and Oikawa scrambled to fish his shoes from beneath his bed. “Just a second.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even pause. “You’ve been to the cafeteria before. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

Oikawa bit down on a protest and stared after him, shoes dangling from his hand. He watched over the low wall of the cell as the two talkative inmates fell into step beside Iwaizumi, striking up a conversation. Oikawa half-expected him to snap at them, but he didn’t seem annoyed.

Oikawa supposed it was only him. He was new, after all. These people didn’t know him. Of course they wanted nothing to do with him.

At least Block One had been a bit more accommodating.

“Umm, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa refocused and realized another inmate had approached the door of his cell. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed immediately. The man wasn’t easy to miss. He was ridiculously tall, and his hair was even taller.

“I can walk with you to the cafeteria, if you’d like,” he said, a little fidgety. “I’m going there now.”

Oikawa thought about Kuroo and Bokuto, and wondered if this man was also plotting against him. That suspicion didn’t last long. The longer Oikawa looked at him, the more uncertain the man became, as if he was the one dreading the walk to breakfast. 

He appeared harmless.

Then again, all of them were in prison for a reason.

“Sure, thank you,” said Oikawa.

“I’m Kindaichi,” he offered, though the name was stamped onto his uniform. 

“Nice to meet you,” said Oikawa, as he stepped out of the cell and walked with Kindaichi down the hallway. 

“Nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san.”

The politeness may have been a ruse designed to lower Oikawa’s guard, but he didn’t think so. Kindaichi seemed genuine, and a bit awkward. Oikawa wondered what he’d done to get locked away.

He wasn’t about to ask, though.

When they emerged into the main hallway, Kindaichi blurted, “So you stayed in Block One your first night?”

“Yes.”

“What was it like?”

Oikawa considered. “Uncomfortable. You would think Tendou would be the scary one but Shirabu was worse. I didn’t sleep.”

“We don’t like each other much,” said Kindaichi, “but it’s not as bad as it used to be. There aren’t any fights anymore.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Oikawa.

Kindaichi frowned. “About three and a half years?”

“Oh,” said Oikawa. He was expecting less. “That’s a long time.”

“I have four, total,” said Kindaichi. “I’m almost there.”

Oikawa stared at him. He couldn’t imagine Kindaichi doing something bad enough to earn twice Oikawa’s sentence. Then again, he’d only met him five minutes before. That wasn’t long enough to judge someone.

“Here we are,” said Kindaichi, though it was unnecessary. If the view of the cafeteria door hadn’t alerted them, the smell of food wafting down the hallway would’ve done the job. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but I wouldn’t eat the sausage if I were you. We think it isn’t really made of sausage.”

“What’s it made of, then?”

“Hanamaki-san has a theory but you won’t like it.”

Oikawa decided to let it go. When he stepped up to collect his tray, he decidedly nudged the sausage away from the rest of his food.

As he turned to face the cafeteria, he had a moment of mild uncertainty that felt a bit like panic. He didn’t know where he was supposed to sit. It was possible he would still be welcome at the Block One table with Tendou and Semi, but since he’d been transferred, he didn’t know if they would treat him as an outsider. The obvious choice would be switching to the Block Two table, but Iwaizumi didn’t seem thrilled to have him around, and he didn’t know if he was allowed to sit there, either. 

Maybe he would just plop down in the floor and save himself the trouble. 

“We sit over here,” said Kindaichi, stepping past him. 

Oikawa exhaled a relieved breath and followed him through the crowded tables.

Kindaichi sat in the vacant space between two of the Block Two inmates – Kunimi and Yahaba, according to their uniforms – and Oikawa sat across from him. He was grateful for the three seats that separated him from Iwaizumi, who hadn’t looked away from his food at Oikawa’s arrival.

“Are you gonna eat that?” asked Kunimi, pointing at the sausage on Oikawa’s tray.

“Oh, umm… no.”

Kunimi glanced to the side, confirming no guards were nearby, and reached over to snatch the meat from Oikawa’s tray. Kindaichi stared at his own food, silent. Oikawa thought they’d likely planned out the sausage conversation in advance. 

If that was the worst thing that happened to him today, he had nothing to complain about.

He started on his food, and when he was halfway finished, another pair of inmates plopped down on either side of him. “Hey there, fresh meat,” said one of them with a grin. Oikawa realized they were the talkative ones who’d been socializing with the guards the night before. “Sleep well?”

Oikawa wasn’t sure if that was a taunt or a genuine question. “Yes?”

“Great,” said the other. “We want you to enjoy your stay in Block Two. We’re all about hospitality.”

That should have had a ring of sarcasm to it, but the man’s voice was oddly serious. Oikawa glanced down to check his name: Matsukawa. The first was Hanamaki.

“Tell us about your night in Block One,” said Hanamaki, leaning closer. “Did anything weird happen? Did you get any blackmail material on Ushijima?”

“I heard he keeps a jar of dirt by his bed,” said Matsukawa, “and he buys sunflower seeds from commissary and plants them in it. Is that true?”

“That’s stupid,” said Oikawa, the words falling out of his mouth before he could bite them back.

Matsukawa leaned to the side to frown at Hanamaki and said, “See? I told you.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Hanamaki. “He totally does it. I heard it from an inside source.”

“Your imagination is not an inside source, Makki.”

“Fuck off, Mattsun.”

“Anyway,” said Matsukawa, as if the bickering hadn’t happened at all, “You’re going to be stuck with us for a while.”

“Lucky bastard,” said Hanamaki with a grin.

“Makki and I have been here the longest,” said Matsukawa, “so we’re the elders of the cellblock. It’s tradition to buy us at least three snacks per week from the commissary. We’ll give you a list of our favorites. If you do, you’ll be fine. If you don’t, we’re going to have some problems.”

Oikawa couldn’t tell if he was serious. His face hadn’t changed a single time since the conversation had begun.

“Iwaizumi-san has been here the longest,” said Kindaichi quietly.

“He doesn’t count,” said Hanamaki, waving him off. “We’re older and wiser.” He jolted forward with a huff as Iwaizumi shoved him.

“I’m older and wiser than both of you,” snapped Iwaizumi. “Stop harassing the newbie. He got enough of that from the resident assholes yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, the two stooges,” said Hanamaki with a nod. “They must be crazy. No one in their right mind would fuck around with Block Two. We’re dangerous.”

“Right,” agreed Matsukawa, still expressionless. “Dangerous.”

Oikawa looked between them, uncertain. “Umm… right.”

“Well, we’re off,” said Hanamaki. He and Matsukawa rose as one. “See ya later, guys.”

There was a murmur of farewells as the two of them strolled across the cafeteria, Hanamaki tipping a nonexistent hat at the guard by the door as they passed. 

“Don’t mind them,” said Kindaichi, as Oikawa scraped up the last of his food. “They’re just like that. They don’t mean anything by it.”

Oikawa wasn’t sure why Kindaichi was being so kind to him, but he was appreciative. Especially when he thought about the scathing looks he’d received from Iwaizumi the day before.

“I’m headed to the showers,” said Yahaba. It was the first time he’d spoken since Oikawa had joined the table. As he stood, the man beside him – Kyoutani, who Oikawa vaguely remembered seeing in the breakfast line the day before – rose to follow.

“We can only shower between eight and nine every morning,” said Kindaichi, as Yahaba and Kyoutani left the table. “I’ll walk you there if you’d like, Oikawa-san.”

“That’s okay,” said Oikawa, studying his empty tray with unnecessary interest. “I think I’ll skip that today.”

“No, you will fucking not,” snapped Iwaizumi.

Oikawa looked up, startled. Iwaizumi’s scowl was back, and it was fixed on Oikawa. “What?”

“You’ll take your ass to the shower today,” said Iwaizumi, “and every day after. I’m not sharing my cell with someone who isn’t clean.”

“I am clean.”

“Shut up,” said Iwaizumi. “There’s enough grease in your hair to fry fucking chicken nuggets. You’ll go to the showers with Kindaichi or I’ll drag you there myself.” He seized his tray and stomped across the cafeteria to toss it into the pile by the door. Oikawa stared after him, at a loss. He reached up to touch his hair. He wanted to think Iwaizumi was being dramatic, but the oily texture beneath his fingertips suggested otherwise.

Kindaichi waited a moment, then said, “Oikawa-san?”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. “I’ll walk with you to the showers. Thanks, Kindaichi.”

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa was naturally a very clean person. He’d always showered daily, deep-conditioned his hair, and plucked his eyebrows to perfection. He liked keeping up his appearance, but in prison it didn’t much matter how he looked.

Also, though he was reluctant to admit it, he was a little bit scared.

Of course he’d heard stories about what happened to people in prisons. Everyone had passed around jokes about dropping the soap. Oikawa had found that somewhat amusing until he was the one locked up.

The shower area was one large, open space. There was a row of sinks equipped with mirrors, and Oikawa avoided looking directly at them so he wouldn’t know just how awful he looked. The other side of the room was lined with showerheads above flat round drains. A few of the other Block Two inmates were mid-shower, their nudity on full display. 

Oikawa quickly turned away from them and tuned back into what Kindaichi was saying. 

“…have an extra soap you can use, until you get some of your own. It’s just the cheap kind the prison gives us. I don’t like wasting my commissary money on soap.”

“Right,” said Oikawa. “Thanks.” He placed his spare uniform on a vacant sink, just like Kindaichi had done, and took the bar. He tried to quell his panic as Kindaichi stepped back to pull his shirt off. 

Oikawa pointedly looked away. The wall behind them seemed like the safest place to look so he focused on it, tracing the lines between the cement blocks. 

For a few seconds there was only the splash of the showers and Hanamaki’s laughter from across the room. Then Kindaichi said, quietly, “I was really uncomfortable when I first got here. I didn’t like showering in front of anyone.”

Oikawa chanced a glance over his shoulder. Kindaichi was shirtless, but he hadn’t yet kicked off his pants. 

“I don’t know how the other blocks are,” continued Kindaichi, “but Block Two is alright. Everyone looks out for each other. They might tease you like Hanamaki and Matsukawa, but they’re not really going to bother you. You probably don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.” He turned his back on Oikawa and shoved down his pants, leaving himself bare. He tossed his dirty uniform into the laundry bin against the wall and stepped toward one of the vacant stalls.

No one stared at him, just as no one stared at any of the other inmates standing around naked. They didn’t seem to care. They definitely weren’t being creepy about it, as Oikawa had feared. 

Slowly, and with more than a touch of reluctance, Oikawa pulled his shirt off. He paused, as if waiting for someone to jump at him, but nothing happened. No one even noticed him. He tossed the shirt into the bin, took a deep breath, and shucked off his pants. He threw them in with the rest of the dirty laundry, seized the soap, and hustled toward the nearest shower stall. 

The water wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold, either. It was somewhere in the middle, and Oikawa tamped down his discomfort as he tried to shower as quickly as possible. The soap was no substitute for actual shampoo, but he did the best he could. He lathered up his hair and decided the first thing he would buy with his commissary was some decent shampoo. 

He ducked his head under the spray to rinse his hair and tried to wipe his eyes with his soaked hands.

“Here.”

The voice was low, gruff, and much closer than Oikawa had expected. He took a startled step back, nearly tripping over himself as he blinked through the water dripping into his eyes.

Iwaizumi was only a step away, a towel in his outstretched hand. 

Oikawa swallowed, pushed wet hair off of his forehead, and hesitantly accepted the towel. He wiped one side of his face, then the other, keeping an eye on Iwaizumi.

“Towels are by the door,” said Iwaizumi. “Grab one before you get in next time. There’s a hook on the wall there for it.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa. He held the towel a little lower, to cover himself. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi didn’t respond. He stepped up to the showerhead beside Oikawa’s and cranked it on, flinching as water splashed over his bare skin.

It took Oikawa entirely too long to realize Iwaizumi was completely naked.

It wasn’t immediately obvious because Iwaizumi still carried himself with a sense of innate confidence, as if he was just as comfortable nude as he was clothed. He scrubbed roughly at his hair and Oikawa traced the lines of his arms, thick with muscle. The rest of him was sturdy too, as if he spent most of his free time in the ill-equipped gym Oikawa had glimpsed the day before. The tattoos on his neck stretched down his back, wrapped around his ribs, and peppered his thighs. There were too many of them for Oikawa to identify them all, and by the time he realized he was staring, Iwaizumi had wiped the water out of his eyes to squint back. 

“The fuck are you looking at?” snapped Iwaizumi.

“Nothing,” said Oikawa quickly. He ducked his head under the water again, just to have an excuse to hide his face. 

He expected Iwaizumi to press the issue, or maybe come closer and slam Oikawa’s head against the wall, but Iwaizumi returned to his shower as if nothing had happened. Oikawa finished washing himself off, yanked the towel off of its hook, and rushed back to the sink where he’d left his clothes. They were still there, and Oikawa breathed a sigh of relief as he dried off and redressed. 

That hadn’t been nearly as traumatizing as he’d expected. 

Now if he could only get a hair dryer.

That seemed to be out of the question, so he scrubbed his head with the towel until his hair was only damp instead of dripping. Kindaichi approached just when he was wondering what to do next.

“It’s supposed to be a nice day,” said Kindaichi. His own hair was still wet, flopping down on his forehead and around his ears. It was a drastic change compared to the gravity-defying style of ten minutes before. He must have kept a stash of hair gel tucked away in his cell. “Most of us will probably spend it out in the yard. Want to go?”

Oikawa thought of the day before, when he’d had a glimpse of the fenced-in yard through the smudged glass windows, just before Bokuto and Kuroo had lured him away. As long as he stuck with the guys in his cellblock, he thought he would be fine.

It would be better than whiling away another day staring at the ceiling of his cell.

“Sure,” said Oikawa. “I’m in.”

  
  
  
  
  
Kindaichi had been right. The weather was lovely.

It was strange to recline beneath the heat of the sun, the smell of freshly cut grass like balm on Oikawa’s nerves. He hadn’t expected to experience anything like this in prison. He’d thought he would be locked in a cage like a dog. 

This still wasn’t ideal, but it could definitely be worse.

“Full house!” announced Hanamaki with a flourish. “I win again!”

The others groaned as Hanamaki collected the handful of potato chips from the middle of the picnic table. 

“You’re cheating,” said Yahaba flatly. “I don’t know how, but I know you’re doing it.”

“You have such little faith in me, my child,” said Hanamaki, pressing a hand over his heart. “It truly wounds me. Breaks my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart.”

“Touché,” said Hanamaki. “Who wants another round?”

Not everyone from Cellblock Two was present, but there were enough of them that Oikawa didn’t feel awkward. He was between Kindaichi and Matsukawa, sitting backward on the bench so he could observe the yard beyond. Some inmates from a different cellblock were on the basketball court, playing a three-on-three match in their white tees, uniform shirts discarded in a pile by the asphalt. Other assorted men wandered around the path that lined the fence, alone or in pairs. Tendou and Semi were among them, strolling along as if they were visiting a park rather than a prison yard. Tendou was smiling, and though Semi didn’t quite look happy, he didn’t look miserable, either.

“Yo, Oikawa.”

Oikawa checked over his shoulder to find Hanamaki leering at him. “Yeah?”

“Want me to deal you in?”

“No, thanks,” said Oikawa. “I’m not good at cards.”

“Now’s the time to learn.”

“He’s right,” said Matsukawa with a shrug. “Not like you have anything better to do.”

Oikawa couldn’t argue with that. He swiveled around with a sigh, balking at the mischievous glint in Hanamaki’s eyes. 

This was probably a mistake.

Oikawa picked up a hand of cards anyway.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa lost. The only consolation was that he’d had nothing to use for a bet, so his only loss had been a sliver of his pride.

The day passed without incident. Oikawa spent most of it outside, with the Block Two inmates. He tagged along with them when they migrated to the cafeteria for lunch and dinner, and followed when they returned to the cellblock when midday bled into evening. Oikawa was oddly at peace. He thought maybe he would survive this prison sentence after all.

Then he was back in his cell, alone with Iwaizumi, and suddenly he was less confident.

Iwaizumi didn’t even look up at him as he entered. He was on his bed in the same position as last night, sprawled back with a book suspended overhead. 

Oikawa thought of saying something, assumed Iwaizumi would get mad if he was interrupted, and plopped onto his own bed without a word.

A few minutes dragged by. Oikawa wondered how much time was left before lights out. He wasn’t ready to sleep, but lying there in complete silence was awkward.

“You like to read?” said Iwaizumi.

Oikawa rolled his head to the side. Iwaizumi still stared at his book as if he hadn’t spoken. “Sure, I guess so.”

Iwaizumi flipped his book shut and sat up. He put it aside and grabbed the other shabby paperback off of his end table. “Here. You can borrow this if it’ll make you quit pouting.”

“Wha- I was not pouting!”

“Whatever. Do you want it or not?”

Oikawa almost said no out of spite, but reconsidered. Time would pass much more quickly if he had a way to occupy himself. “Sure. Thank you, Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t rip any pages. I borrowed it from Makki. He’ll make a scene if it’s not in the same fucking condition when I give it back.”

“Hanamaki can read?” said Oikawa dubiously.

Iwaizumi snorted and tossed the book over. Oikawa caught it easily.

“He’s smarter than he lets on,” said Iwaizumi, lounging back and reaching for his own book. “I haven’t read that one yet. If you spoil anything for me I’ll break your neck.”

Oikawa frowned, trying to decide if he was serious. Somehow he didn’t think so.

“Sure,” he said. “I won’t tell you about the hero sacrificing himself in the end to protect the love of his life.”

Iwaizumi went still. Slowly he turned his head, his stare cutting straight through Oikawa.

“I’m kidding!” said Oikawa quickly, raising the book to shield himself. “I’ve never read it before. I have no idea what happens.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, but when he returned his attention to his own book, he wasn’t scowling.

That felt like a small victory, and when Oikawa lounged back to read, it was without anxiety. 

  
  
  
  
  
Prison life became a pattern. Oikawa rose at the same time every morning, stood by for roll call, went to breakfast, and had a shower. Leisure time was spent out on the yard or, in the case of bad weather, in the day room where an outdated television broadcasted current Tokyo news. Every couple of days he would tag along with Iwaizumi to the small, badly stocked gym and work on rebuilding the strength he’d lost during his stint in jail.

Iwaizumi didn’t speak to him during those times, but he never told him to leave, either. It was a fair compromise.

About a week into his residency at the prison, Oikawa was walking to the cafeteria for dinner, lost among his thoughts. Hanamaki had just finished the dramatic retelling of his arrest, during which a spectacular explosion had destroyed an entire police station. 

Oikawa thought he’d made up the entire thing, but with Hanamaki, it was hard to be sure.

As Oikawa rounded the corner he tripped and tried to catch himself, but a rough push between his shoulders sent him spilling to the floor. He staggered half-upright but heavy hands slapped onto his shoulders, forcing him back down. A wide leer was directly in his face, and he had to lean back for some distance before he recognized the mess of hair that was Kuroo.

“Hey, fresh meat,” said Kuroo through his grin. He crouched in front of Oikawa, too close for comfort. “How’s it hanging?”

Oikawa scooted away but his back thumped against a pair of sturdy kneecaps. He looked up to find Bokuto standing over him, arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t smiling like Kuroo; his brow was creased, mouth tugging into a frown.

“You’re not touching my hair,” said Oikawa flatly, swallowing down his nerves. He thought covering up any signs of weakness was a good strategy, but he didn’t know for sure. He’d never dealt with this sort of situation. He had never been an easy target.

Kuroo laughed. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. You can keep your hair.” He scrubbed a hand over Oikawa’s scalp. Oikawa slapped him away. “For now, anyway.”

Oikawa didn’t like the sound of that, but he said nothing. He glanced to both sides, searching the hall for a guard; or, better yet, Iwaizumi. Oikawa thought he could hold his own against Kuroo, but Bokuto was too strong for his own good. “What do you want, then?”

“Just checking to see how you’re adjusting to prison life,” said Kuroo. He tilted his head to one side. “Did you enjoy your initiation into Block Two? I hear they have a group gangbang for the newbies.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oho, don’t want to talk about it? I wouldn’t have thought you were shy. What do you think, Bo?”

Bokuto said nothing. He hadn’t moved. 

“If they didn’t give you a good initiation, we’d be more than happy to,” said Kuroo, leaning closer. “Come over to Block Three. We’ll show you a good time.”

Bokuto made a low sound. “Kuroo…”

“Get away from me,” snapped Oikawa. He slammed a heel into Kuroo’s chest, knocking him back. He struggled to his feet, but before he could take off down the hallway, Bokuto seized him beneath the arms in an unyielding grip. His thick biceps tensed around Oikawa’s shoulders, pinning him in a half nelson. Oikawa tried to twist away, but Bokuto didn’t even budge.

Kuroo slinked close again, still grinning. “Still feisty, huh? We’ll take care of that.”

“What’s your fucking deal?” spat Oikawa. “What’d I ever do to you?”

“Nothing at all,” said Kuroo. “I don’t care about you, fresh meat.” He patted the side of Oikawa’s faced with utter condescension. “We were just playing with you the first time. It’s too bad for you Iwaizumi stepped in. He’s the one we have a problem with, right, Bo?”

Bokuto didn’t answer.

“This prison is mine,” said Kuroo. “It’s always been mine, and it’ll be mine long after Iwaizumi is gone. He struts around like he’s fucking special, but he’s not. He needs to be put back in his place.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” said Oikawa.

“He told us to keep away from you,” said Kuroo. “Demanded it, actually. As if he has any authority over me. He’s very protective of his Cellblock. That’s the way to get to him.”

Oikawa snorted. He should have kept his mouth shut, but found himself saying, “So you’re running around behind his back because you’re too afraid to come at him head-on. Guess that makes you a coward.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me. Unless you’re deaf as well as stupid.”

Oikawa’s brashness surprised all of them; including Oikawa. When they’d cornered him the week before he wouldn’t have imagined saying something like that to a hardened convict. He wasn’t sure what had changed. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen as weak, the way Iwaizumi had seen him that first day. He didn’t want to be a victim.

Kuroo gripped Oikawa’s jaw and squeezed so hard that it hurt. “Look at that. You’ve got a spine after all. Gives us something else to break.”

Oikawa shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake, a serious one.

Still, he pulled back and spat directly into Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo didn’t even flinch, but his stare became murderous.

“You’re going to regret that.”

He pulled a fist back, Oikawa braced himself for impact, and a voice shouted from the far end of the hallway.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Bokuto’s arms went limp. Oikawa stumbled away and wheeled to face the guard who approached at a brisk pace. He was strangely relieved to see it was Sawamura.

“Don’t say a word,” growled Kuroo, a breath away from Oikawa’s ear. He scrubbed his face on his sleeve. “Sawamura will take my side, no matter what you say.”

Oikawa didn’t know how true that was, but he didn’t have time to think it over. Sawamura stopped in front of the trio, the heel of his hand resting on the OC spray clipped to his belt. He looked sternly between them, his stare lingering on Kuroo, who was grinning again.

“Hey there, Captain,” said Kuroo. “It’s been a while.”

“I saw you thirty minutes ago, Kuroo.”

“That’s far too long, don’t you think?”

Sawamura looked to Bokuto instead. “What’s going on?”

Bokuto shrugged and mumbled a feeble excuse under his breath. His slumped posture made him seem smaller.

Unsatisfied, Sawamura settled on his last choice. “Oikawa. What happened?”

Oikawa felt Kuroo staring at him. He wanted nothing more than to tell Sawamura exactly what Kuroo had done, and what he’d threatened to do. Instead, Oikawa swallowed and said, “Nothing, Captain. Just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine.”

Sawamura was not convinced. “Are they giving you trouble?”

“Us?” said Kuroo, feigning innocence. “Bo and I are nothing but nice. You know that, Sawamura.”

“Shut up, Kuroo.” He folded his arms and focused on Oikawa. “Well?”

“No,” said Oikawa, his stare slipping down to the floor. Maybe he should’ve told the truth, but he had a feeling that snitching on Kuroo would have a far worse outcome than keeping his mouth shut. “We were just talking. Nothing to worry about.”

Sawamura huffed. He clearly didn’t believe him, but gave in all the same. “Fine. Oikawa, get to the cafeteria before they stop serving dinner.”

Oikawa nodded and rushed to comply. As he trotted away, he heard Kuroo say, “What about us? Aren’t you worried about our nutritional health?”

Sawamura’s sharp “Shut the hell up” was the last thing Oikawa heard as he slipped around the corner. Five minutes later he’d collected his tray of food and slunk over to the Block Two table, dropping into the seat between Kindaichi and Yahaba. 

“The fuck happened to you?” said Iwaizumi.

Oikawa looked up, startled. Iwaizumi was seated directly across from him, his brow furrowed with suspicion. “What?” 

“You heard me,” said Iwaizumi. “What happened?”

This felt like the conversation with Sawamura all over again, only Iwaizumi was a shade more intimidating. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Save the bullshit,” growled Iwaizumi. “You prance around here with your perfect hair all the time. I know you’re not walking around like _that_ on purpose.”

Oikawa reached up to his hair, belatedly realizing it was a mess from the encounter with Kuroo. “Oh, umm… I took a nap. I must have laid on it wrong.”

Iwaizumi glared, and Oikawa briefly wondered why he was lying. He hadn’t been forbidden by Kuroo to tell Iwaizumi about the incident, and even if he had been, Oikawa had no reason to do what Kuroo said. He could have told Iwaizumi and let him handle it, but in his gut he felt it was a bad idea. There was already tripwire tension between Kuroo and Iwaizumi. Oikawa didn’t want to be the one to make it worse.

Iwaizumi glanced away as Bokuto and Kuroo entered the cafeteria. Bokuto looked abashed, but Kuroo was grinning, as always. He slid a glance toward the Block Two table, lingering on Oikawa, before approaching the food line.

Iwaizumi watched them, a black mood settling around him like fog. “What did they do?”

“Nothing.”

Iwaizumi slammed a hand on the table. Oikawa flinched. “I don’t like liars.”

Oikawa took a breath. He thought, not for the first time, that Iwaizumi was likely capable of snapping his neck with minimal effort. “They were just talking shit. Well, Kuroo was. Bokuto didn’t really say anything. That was it, though. They didn’t…” He almost said _touch_ , but that would’ve been a lie. “…hurt me.”

Iwaizumi studied him closely, weighing the honesty of his words. Oikawa tried not to fidget.

When Iwaizumi returned his attention to his dinner, Oikawa almost melted in relief. “Next time he even looks at you wrong, you tell me.”

“Okay.”

“All of you,” said Iwaizumi, glancing around the table at his silent blockmates. “If they push you, don’t push back. They’ll find a way to blame you and get you thrown in solitary. Tell me and I’ll take care of it.”

There were murmurs of assent, even from Hanamaki, from whom Oikawa would have expected some sarcastic quip. Their respect for Iwaizumi was impressive.

Oikawa wondered what Iwaizumi had done to earn it.

“If Kuroo keeps trying to step on my toes,” said Iwaizumi, stabbing at his dinner with unnecessary force, “I’ll have to break his fucking leg.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rainy days were the worst.

They dragged twice as long as a normal day, the sound of rain against the windows buzzing in Oikawa’s ears for hours on end, dragging him to the brink of madness. If he didn’t have Iwaizumi’s borrowed paperbacks, Oikawa thought he would have tried to drown himself in the shower just to end the monotony. They still played cards on rainy days, huddled in Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s cell, but Oikawa typically opted out of those games. He lost every single time.

The nice days, when the sun was out and the weather was warm, were better. Most of those were spent in the yard, where there was more to see than the same gray walls. Oikawa enjoyed walking the paved path around the edge, sometimes with Kindaichi or one of the other inmates of Block Two, other times by himself. As long as the others were in the yard – Iwaizumi, especially – he didn’t worry so much about going off on his own, as long as he was still in sight. Besides, Bokuto and Kuroo rarely ever came outside, unless it was their turn to use the basketball court. That was decided on a rotating schedule, and Oikawa learned a couple of weeks into his sentence that those were the best days of all.

“C’mon, Oikawa,” said Hanamaki, baring his teeth in a predatory smile. “Play with us.”

“No thanks.” Oikawa squinted against the sun in his eyes. It was nearly blinding, but he couldn’t complain. The heat of it soaked the back of his neck and warmed him down to his bones. He lounged back against the rickety table. “I’ll sit this one out.”

“You sat out last time,” said Matsukawa. He stood nearby, a hand-rolled cigarette dangling between his lips. Oikawa knew those were contraband, and he still hadn’t figured out where they came from or why the guards didn’t put a stop to it. Tanaka was posted by the outside door, well within view, but he didn’t spare them a second glance. Matsukawa puffed out a breath and added, “And the time before that, and the one before that.”

“Stop being such a little bitch,” said Hanamaki. 

“I’m not being a bitch. I just don’t want to.”

“Why?” said Matsukawa. “It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

That was Matsukawa’s perpetual reasoning for everything. He said it when he tried to get Oikawa to flood Block Three’s bathroom, and when he tried to get Oikawa to “accidentally” spill his drink on Ushijima, and when he tried to get Oikawa to try and seduce one of the guards – Sugawara, specifically – and convince him to smuggle in an order of hot wings.

Oikawa had obviously denied all of those suggestions, because contrary to Matsukawa’s attitude, he did have better things to do. Those things included keeping his head down and serving his time so he could get the hell out of prison.

“What’s taking you idiots so long?” said Iwaizumi, scuffing over with a basketball tucked beneath his arm. He’d shed his uniform shirt and was left in only a white tee that was thin enough to show the lines and edges of the tattoos beneath. The prison rules said they were only allowed to remove any piece of their uniform during their showers and during any guard-approved physical activity. From what Oikawa had gathered, that applied only to whichever cell block was allowed to use the basketball court on any given day. 

“Yeah, Oikawa,” said Hanamaki. “What’s taking you so long?”

Iwaizumi shoved Hanamaki toward the flat spit of asphalt in the middle of the yard. He did it gently, and Oikawa expected if he’d used his full strength, Hanamaki would have been face-down in the dirt. 

“Get out there. Split up teams.” He flung the ball at Hanamaki, who caught it easily. “Oikawa will play on mine.”

Oikawa craned his head back to stare up at him. “I’m not playing.”

“Yeah, you are,” said Iwaizumi. He plucked the cigarette from Matsukawa’s mouth, scowling down at Oikawa as he took a drag. “Make yourself useful. You’re tall enough that you have to be good at it.” He exhaled, a curl of smoke slipping between his lips. “Or do you think you’re too good to play with prison rats like us?”

“I’m in prison too, you know,” muttered Oikawa. 

“Yeah, for something boring, probably,” said Iwaizumi. He took one more puff before handing the cigarette back to Matsukawa. “You’re playing. Move your ass.” His heel scuffed against the ground as he turned and headed toward the court, where Hanamaki had started dividing the block into two separate groups. 

Matsukawa flicked his cigarette away. “The king has spoken.”

Oikawa sighed, but found himself standing anyway. He could have refused, and he’d learned by now that Iwaizumi wouldn’t hurt him for something like that. He wasn’t as frightening as he seemed, at least not to the guys in his block.

If Oikawa had been in Block Three, though, he would have been terrified.

“There he is!” Hanamaki started a slow clap as Oikawa stepped onto the court. “It’s about time, fresh meat. Kicking your ass at cards was getting boring. It’s time for you to lose at something different.”

“He won’t lose,” said Iwaizumi, pulling an arm over his head in a stretch. “He’s on my team. Kindaichi, get over here. You’re with us.”

“Wait, you told me to split the teams,” said Hanamaki.

“I just wanted you to feel important.” Iwaizumi switched arms. 

“You’re a dick.”

“Fuck you, too.” It was said without an ounce of true anger. “Oikawa, come here.”

Kunimi had chosen to sit out, and Kyoutani had been banned from the yard for two weeks for a disciplinary infraction, which left only six of them on the court. That was for the best, anyway. It wasn’t a full-sized court, and having more people would only make the limited space too crowded.

Oikawa was assigned as Hanamaki’s guard, and he couldn’t decide if that was the best- or worst-case scenario. 

An hour later, he concluded it was the worst.

He hit the pavement hard, the impact ripping the skin from his elbows. He sucked in a breath that burned, gritting his teeth against the spikes of pain.

“Oopsie,” said Hanamaki, smiling down at him. He turned to pitch the ball toward the basket, where it dipped into the net-less metal ring easily. “Two more for us!”

“You’re a fucking cheater,” said Oikawa, breathless.

“No, I’m a winner.”

“Don’t be so fucking whiny.” Iwaizumi stepped up and offered a hand. Oikawa hesitated for only a second before he took it. Despite Oikawa’s size, Iwaizumi hefted him to his feet as if he was weightless. “I thought you were good at basketball.”

“I never said that!” Oikawa rubbed at his chest, where Hanamaki had slammed into him with a shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling. “Shouldn’t that have been a foul or something?”

“Prison rules,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. 

Oikawa grumbled under his breath. He touched a stinging elbow and his fingers came away red. “Damn it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Matsukawa. The ball rolled to a stop at his toes and he stooped to pick it up. “If you don’t get hurt a few times while you’re here then what’s the point? Chicks dig scars. Especially prison scars.” He tossed the ball, and it was another perfect shot.

“The only thing better than prison scars is prison tattoos,” said Hanamaki, grinning. “Right, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi ignored him. His attention was still on Oikawa. “You going to keep playing or pussy out?”

When he phrased it that way, there wasn’t much of a choice.

“I’m not stopping until we win.” Oikawa said it with more conviction than he truly felt.

Iwaizumi’s scowl leveled out. The corner of his mouth pulled up, just slightly. “Good.” He slapped Oikawa on the shoulder, and though it was hard enough to sting, it seemed like a gesture of camaraderie. “Let’s fuck ‘em up.”

Oikawa rejoined the game, but it took him a few minutes too long to get back into flow of it.

He was still baffled that Iwaizumi had actually smiled. 

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa was scraped and bruised when he sat down for dinner, but despite the small aches, he was satisfied. They’d scraped together a win in the end, only because Iwaizumi had put Matsukawa in a headlock to stop him from blocking Oikawa’s shots. There had been nothing orderly about the game at all, but Oikawa thought that had made it more enjoyable.

“Good game,” said Iwaizumi. He slid his tray onto the table and took the seat beside Oikawa. He’d played the hardest out of anyone, yet he was still remarkably unscathed. “You playing again next time our block gets the court?”

“I guess so,” said Oikawa. “If you want me to.”

Iwaizumi gave him a look, as unreadable as if it was written in a foreign language.

Hanamaki slammed his tray down and sat with a huff, glaring at the pair of them with a freshly blackened eye. “I hate you both.”

“Good,” said Iwaizumi, starting in on his food. “I hate you, too.”

Hanamaki’s focus zeroed in on Oikawa with palpable ferocity. He was likely replaying the scene from an hour before when Oikawa had swung a bloody elbow directly into his face to clear a path on the court. 

Oikawa didn’t feel bad about it.

Prison rules.

“You’re on our team next time,” said Matsukawa through a mouthful of potatoes. “Iwaizumi shouldn’t win too much. It’s bad for his ego.”

Iwaizumi didn’t bother responding to the quip. He probably wasn’t offended. Despite his reputation in the prison and the respect he’d earned from the other inmates, Oikawa hadn’t noticed even a trace of arrogance from him.

Iwaizumi turned his head. “What’re you looking at?”

Oikawa realized too late he’d been staring. He caught himself doing it too often. “Nothing.” He took a bite and looked off across the cafeteria instead. His eyes caught on the Block One table, where Tendou was making wide gestures with his plastic spork as he told a story. He swung his hand too wide and nearly stabbed Semi in the eye. Semi slapped the utensil out of his hand and they devolved into quiet bickering, ignored by the rest of their table.

Oikawa hadn’t spoken to them. He still appreciated their threadbare kindness, but the separation of cellblocks was stricter than he’d thought. It wasn’t by prison policy, but by social barriers. 

Except for Blocks Three and Four, apparently.

Bokuto and Kuroo strolled into the cafeteria together, Kuroo grinning as he scanned the room. Unlike Iwaizumi, Kuroo may have been the one with a big ego.

“They said anything else to you?” asked Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa belatedly realized the question was meant for him. 

“Oh, uh… No, I haven’t ran into them again.”

“Keep it that way.”

That was useless advice. It wasn’t as if Oikawa _wanted_ to walk into a confrontation with the pair of them. Still he said, “Yeah, I will.”

Iwaizumi nodded, and they returned to their meals.

Dinner passed without incident, and too soon Oikawa found himself back in his bunk, squinting at the pages of the mystery novel Iwaizumi had thrown at him the night before. Iwaizumi was in a similar position on the other side of the cell, absorbed in a thick sci-fi.

Oikawa flipped a page, frowning. He knew the font hadn’t changed, but he could have sworn it got smaller and smaller the longer he read. He rolled onto his stomach and held the book at a different angle, catching more light on the page. 

“You need glasses.”

Oikawa glanced over at Iwaizumi, who still stared fixedly at his own book.

“No, I don’t,” said Oikawa. “I just need a lamp. It’s too dark in here.”

“It’s not dark. You’re just half-blind.”

“Not true. I have excellent vision.”

“If by ‘excellent’ you mean ‘shitty’, then yeah, sure.”

Oikawa huffed and tossed the novel to the side. “You’re a terrible cellmate.”

“I aim to please.”

Oikawa bunched up his flat pillow and flopped onto his side, back against the wall. Iwaizumi still hadn’t looked over at him. He was either very interested in the story or very determined to ignore Oikawa. Probably both.

Minutes trickled by peacefully. Oikawa heard Yahaba’s voice in the next cell over, a bite in his words as he berated Kyoutani for whatever stupid thing he’d done to get in trouble with the guards again. A repetitive squeak of bedsprings across the hallway suggested Kindaichi was lying in his bunk too, bouncing a foot against the end of the bed as he tended to do when he was anxious. A distant rumble of laughter indicated Hanamaki and Matsukawa were making nice with the guards again.

It had been three and a half weeks since Oikawa had been booked in, and he already felt like he’d been there his entire life. The routine was rubbing raw tracks into his thoughts, running a factory reset of his brain. He understood now why people had such a hard time reintegrating into society after a lengthy prison sentence. It hadn’t even been a month and he’d already forgotten what it was like to have freedom.

It could have been worse, though. He’d expected his fellow inmates to be bloodthirsty fiends who tried to shank him at any given moment.

In fact, he rather liked the guys in his cell block, and not only because he had little choice. If he met them on the outside maybe they would have become friends. 

Probably not, but maybe.

Either way, he appreciated their company, even when it led to violent gameplay on the basketball court.

“You were right, you know,” said Oikawa, thinking back to the game.

“I usually am,” said Iwaizumi. “What about this time?”

“It was kind of boring. What I did to get in here, I mean.”

Iwaizumi didn’t look away from his novel, but he went still, his eyes no longer tracking across the page. 

“The official charges were embezzlement and fraud.” Oikawa rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He’d memorized its appearance so thoroughly that he thought he would remember it for the rest of his life. Even when he got out, he would likely still see that ceiling in his dreams. “That’s what I was convicted of. It sounded all fancy when they talked about it in court, but it was really just stealing.” He waited to see if Iwaizumi would say anything, and when he kept quiet, Oikawa continued talking. “I was the manager of the biggest bank in Miyagi. I found a way to slice a little money off our funds every month without anyone noticing. Well, one of my assistant managers noticed because he had to sign off on the numbers, but I convinced him everything was okay. I went six years without getting caught.”

Iwaizumi was still staring at his book. Oikawa felt that he should stop talking, but now that he’d finally admitted this to someone, he found that he couldn’t stop.

“I stole so much money,” he said, “that I hired the best attorney in the city. He got me out of most of the charges, but I had to take the fall for some of it. The court wanted me to serve ten years. We went to trial, and I put on a sad show to make the jury feel sorry for me. I’d hoped to get acquitted altogether, but two years was a miracle. I’m lucky.”

“I didn’t ask,” said Iwaizumi.

The coldness of his tone was unexpected, and it stung.

“I know,” said Oikawa, quietly. “I just… You mentioned that earlier, and I thought-”

“I didn’t say it so you’d tell me your whole life story,” said Iwaizumi. Still he held his book, refusing to look in Oikawa’s direction. “It doesn’t matter why you’re here. It doesn’t matter why any of us are here. All that matters is when we’re getting the fuck out.”

Oikawa pressed the side of his face into his pillow, fighting against an unreasonable wave of disappointment. 

He knew that already. He knew no one here wanted to talk about their crimes, and that no one cared about his. He knew Iwaizumi was not his friend.

Still, if he’d allowed himself to imagine this conversation, it would have gone differently. Iwaizumi would have told Oikawa what he’d done to end up in prison, and maybe they could have bonded over their experiences.

He realized now how stupid that was. Bonding with anyone here was an imminent disaster.

Oikawa should have rolled over and gone to sleep. Lights out would be called soon. Instead, he asked, “How much time do you have left, then?”

Finally, Iwaizumi lowered the book. He marked his page and dropped it to the side, sighing as he stretched out and stared up at the ceiling. “Too damn long. It’s always too damn long.”

He said nothing more, and Oikawa didn’t push. He simply laid there in silence until the lights went out, and until he eventually fell asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
It wasn’t often that Oikawa went off on his own. He’d learned his lesson the day that Kuroo and Bokuto had cornered him in the hallway, and he was reminded every time Kuroo shot him a shank-sharp grin from across the cafeteria. 

Still, sometimes he needed to get out of his cellblock before he went mad.

It was raining, and the drum of it was loud enough to cut through the thick walls of the prison. It was a constant drone, like the annoying buzz of a fly that followed his every footstep. If they weren’t barred from going into the yard during bad weather, Oikawa thought he would have gone anyway. It would have been worth getting drenched just to get away from the walls.

The residents of Block Two seemed unbothered by the conditions. They’d started a blackjack tournament in floor of Hanamaki’s cell, and Oikawa had immediately turned down the invitation to join. They were betting with commissary money, and Oikawa needed all the funds he could get.

He slipped past the door of the cell, the occupants too distracted by the game to notice. Nishinoya, posted in the guard station, barely spared him a glance as he emerged into the main hallway. 

There were a few drifters around, but for the most part it was vacant. The other inmates had likely found some variety of indoor activity to pursue. Oikawa considered going to the gym, but it was near the center of the prison, too close to Block Three. If Iwaizumi wasn’t with him, he didn’t want to risk it.

Instead he idly wandered the hallways between Block Two and the cafeteria, the side of the prison that he considered the safest. As long as he didn’t go any further he wouldn’t be in Block Three territory, so the chances of running into Kuroo or Bokuto were low. Still there was a chance, and Oikawa knew he was stupid for taking it.

But he just couldn’t sit in that cell anymore. 

At the end of a hallway, he caught a glimpse of bright hair disappearing around the corner. There was only one inmate with hair that color, and Oikawa turned back to follow.

He found Tendou emerging from a closet with a wicked grin on his face, accompanied by a man Oikawa had seen but never noticed.

He wasn’t worried until he checked the number on the stranger’s uniform.

Block Three.

“Oikawa-kun!” said Tendou, his grin widening. “Fancy running into you in a place like this. Have you missed me so much that you’re planning to ambush me in a broom closet?”

“No,” said Oikawa. He tried to look at Tendou, but couldn’t stop watching the stranger long enough to do so. “I was just passing through.”

Tendou seemed to pick up on his tension. “Have you met Kozume-kun?”

The man, Kozume, flicked a glance at Oikawa before dismissing him.

“No,” said Oikawa stiffly. “I haven’t.”

“He and Kuroo go way back,” said Tendou.

That doubled Oikawa’s unease.

Tendou laughed. “Don’t hold that against him, though.” He moved as if he was going to prop on elbow on Kozume’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it. “Kozume-kun is alright.”

“I’m done here,” said Kozume, disregarding him altogether. “I expect the trade on Saturday.”

“Then you’ll get it Saturday,” said Tendou. His tone was agreeable, but Oikawa didn’t miss the tightness at the corners of his smile. “First thing after commissary hours.”

Kozume grunted in response and wandered away, toward the side of the prison that Oikawa knew to avoid.

As soon as he was gone, Tendou rounded on Oikawa. “Wanna know why I was meeting one of Kuroo’s lackeys in a closet?”

“No. It’s not my business.”

Tendou cackled. “Look at you. You’re learning already.” He slung an arm around Oikawa’s neck and steered him toward the closet. “It’s top secret prison stuff. But I’m gonna tell you anyway, because I like you.”

“You don’t have to, I’m not… Are we even allowed to go in there?”

Tendou slung the closet door open to reveal a cramped room stacked with cleaning supplies. A sink was crammed in one corner, a mop bucket in the other.

“Nope,” said Tendou. “It’s supposed to remain locked at all times.”

“They why-”

“If they’re too stupid to fix the broken lock,” said Tendou, shoving Oikawa inside, “then it’s their problem.” He kicked the door, shutting them in.

Oikawa was very aware of how close Tendou was, and how he was blocking the only exit. An alarm sounded in his head, and it sounded very much like Iwaizumi berating him for being an idiot. Tendou slipped a hand into the front of his pants, and an entirely different alarm screamed in Oikawa’s brain.

“Take a breath, jesus,” said Tendou, rolling his eyes. His grin stretched as retracted his hand and showed Oikawa a flash of dull silver. “You’ve gotta keep an eye on Kozume. He and Kuroo have been in here together for so long that they’re a package deal at this point, so obviously you can’t trust him. But he does make some of the best shanks in this shithole, so he deserves credit for that.”

Before Oikawa got a good look, Tendou tucked the thing away again. 

“A… shank?” asked Oikawa, uncertain. He couldn’t help but picture Tendou plunging it into his neck. “Why would you need that?”

“Same reason as anybody else.” Tendou shrugged. “Need to be prepared, you know?”

Oikawa did not know, and he hoped that he never found out.

“It’s not for me, anyway,” said Tendou. He reached into his pants again, and Oikawa tried not to watch. “This one’s mine.” He showed a sharp, palm-sized object. “Made it out of a chicken bone.”

“They don’t give us anything in the cafeteria with bones in it.” Probably for this exact reason.

“I didn’t get it from the cafeteria,” said Tendou through a menacing grin.

Oikawa said nothing else. He didn’t want to know.

“The new one is for Semi,” said Tendou. He leaned against the door, casually, as if he wasn’t a human barrier to Oikawa’s escape. “The quality of a shank says a lot about the shanker, you know. Semi is classier than I am, so he needs a good one. I wanted something ivory-plated, but I guess that was too much to ask for.”

“Ivory-plated,” repeated Oikawa.

Tendou nodded. “He deserves nothing less. When we both get out of here I’m gonna buy him some pearls or something, I don’t know. Whatever classy people like.”

Oikawa thought Semi was more crass than classy, but he wasn’t about to argue, especially not when he was trapped in this closet. 

“So you guys were friends the last time he was here?” Oikawa didn’t know if it was an appropriate question, but any conversation was better than standing there in awkward silence, waiting for the next uncomfortable thing that Tendou had to say.

“Friends. That’s cute.” Tendou bared his teeth in a grin that was more of a sneer. “Yeah, we’ve been _friends_ for a long time now, ever since I got transferred here from max.”

“You were in maximum security?” said Oikawa. He didn’t like thinking about it, now that he knew there was a difference between constant lockdown and the sliver of free will that he currently had.

Tendou hummed. “For about a year, yeah. When I didn’t attack anyone else they reassigned me.”

_Anyone else._

Oikawa didn’t fail to miss the implication, and it made him even more desperate to get out of that closet. He wasn’t about to try and force his way out, though, not when he knew Tendou had weapons. 

“I met Semi-Semi here,” said Tendou with a broad, almost reverent gesture at the walls around them, “on my first day. We were cellmates. He absolutely hated me.” He smiled, fondly. “He came around eventually. The first time he got on his knees for me I found fucking nirvana.”

That was more information than Oikawa cared to know. He took a step closer, hoping Tendou would take the hint and move aside, but he didn’t budge.

“Even so,” said Tendou, his smile fading, “I wish he hadn’t come back this time. I’m glad I’m not alone anymore, but… he could do so much better, ya know?”

Oikawa didn’t know the correct answer to that question so he didn’t offer one.

“But since he’s here,” said Tendou, “and since you’re here, and I’m here, we should just make the best of it, right?”

“Right,” agreed Oikawa, because it seemed like the proper thing to say.

Tendou moved away from the door, and relief rushed Oikawa like a tidal wave. It crashed down, and dread swelled to take its place as Tendou again hooked an arm around Oikawa’s neck, leering directly into his face.

“This is where we sneak off to,” murmured Tendou. “Me and Semi.” He dragged a thumb along the edge of Oikawa’s jaw, slowly. “You can come anytime you get lonely, Oikawa-kun.” His grin stretched so widely that it seemed on the verge of splitting his face. “We’d show you a good time.”

Oikawa tried to back up, but Tendou’s grip was unbreakable. “Uh… thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“You have a problem with it?” Tendou’s hand inched toward the waistband of his pants, and Oikawa imagined a flash of sharp metal cutting toward his throat. 

Oikawa swallowed. “I don’t want any problems here, alright? You guys do whatever you want to do. It’s fine, it’s great. I’m not going to say anything to anyone.”

Tendou considered him with a tilt of his head. He raised a hand and Oikawa flinched, but Tendou only patted the side of his face, gently. “You’re cute when you’re scared, Oikawa-kun.” He laughed under his breath and peeled his arm away. “Am I intimidating?”

“A little, yeah,” said Oikawa. 

Tendou laughed again, more loudly. “Good. You don’t have to be afraid of me, though. We’re friends.”

Oikawa didn’t know if he wanted to be Tendou’s friend, but it seemed much safer than the alternative.

“It’s getting stuffy in here,” said Tendou. “Let’s go, unless you want to suck me off real quick.”

“I’ll leave that to Semi.”

“Probably for the best,” said Tendou. “I’d bet my entire commissary he’s better at it.” He paused, as if waiting for Oikawa to protest. When he didn’t, Tendou pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway.

Oikawa exhaled, the intensity of his relief nearly leaving him dizzy. He followed, and nearly ran straight into Tendou when he came to a dead stop. Before he could speak, another voice cut into them.

“What are you doing in there? Inmates are not allowed in the supply room. You’re both getting points for this.”

Oikawa’s stomach dropped. He did not need points on his record, especially not for sneaking off in the designated sex closet with Tendou, of all people. Points would look bad on his record. It could add time to his sentence, or earn him a turn in solitary, or…

The guard scowled at the pair of them, and recognition slammed into Oikawa like a crashing plane. 

The guard seemed to identify Oikawa in the same instant. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack, ruining the air of authority he’d projected a split second before. He looked from Oikawa’s face down to the name on his uniform, as if confirming his identity. With visible effort, the guard dragged his attention back to Tendou. “You. Go back to your cell. If I catch you here again you’re going to solitary.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Tendou solemnly. “I will never darken this doorstep again.” He gave the guard a small salute before loping away, tossing a speculative glance back at them. He rounded the corner, and the guard checked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. When he looked back at Oikawa, he seemed to have shed an outer layer, leaving himself vulnerable.

Oikawa smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile.

“Tobio-chan,” he said sweetly. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so happy to see you.”


	5. Chapter 5

“The uniform suits you, Tobio-chan,” said Oikawa, studying him with a raised brow. He tilted his head, taking in the sight of Kageyama decked out in full prison guard equipment. To anyone else, he may have appeared formidable, a professional, but Oikawa knew better. “Who was dumb enough to think you could handle this job?”

Kageyama’s cheeks darkened. “I can handle it just fine.”

“Oh?” said Oikawa. “How long have you worked here?”

“Well, I… This is my first day.”

Oikawa’s face felt strange, his skin too tight, and he realized it was because he’d gone so long without smiling. He never would have thought that Kageyama, of all people, would be the one to uplift his mood. It had always been the opposite. 

In the past, when Oikawa had imagined going to prison, he’d always thought it would be for murdering Kageyama, not for stealing money.

“I went through training,” said Kageyama. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Six weeks of it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do.” Oikawa glided closer. “When you were in training, did you tell them how you should be on this side of the bars?”

Kageyama frowned down at the floor. “There aren’t any bars here.”

“You know exactly what I mean, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama turned his face away, chewing at the edge of his lip. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you so nervous about it?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever you say.” Oikawa shrugged and tucked his hands into the pockets of his ugly orange pants. “If you didn’t do anything, then you won’t mind if I tell Captain Sawamura how you and I know each other.” 

He made it six paces away, and likely only that far because Kageyama was too stunned to immediately respond. 

Kageyama seized him by the arm and yanked him back around, panic flashing in his eyes. “You can’t tell Sawamura-san.”

“Why is that?” Oikawa smiled and pretended Kageyama’s grip wasn’t tight enough to bruise. He glanced down at the OC spray tucked into a nondescript pouch on Kageyama’s belt, and the baton fastened behind it. “Almost sounds like you have something to hide.”

“You can’t tell him.”

“Or what, Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama released him and took a step back. They faced one another in the hallway, tension tying them together with a gut-wrenching knot. One of Kageyama’s arms drifted down, the heel of his hand resting on the pouch of his belt.

Oikawa felt the first stir of dread as he realized he may have misjudged Kageyama. Regardless of their history, he was a prison guard now, and Oikawa was just another inmate. Kageyama was the one with the power here, if he only stepped up to take it.

Kageyama took a breath, his fingers lingering at his belt, before he let his hand fall away. “Please, Oikawa-san,” he said quietly. “Don’t tell Sawamura-san. I need this job.”

Relief rolled through Oikawa in a satisfying wave. He still knew Kageyama, after all.

“Oh, Tobio-chan,” he said. “You know I was only joking. Of course I won’t tell him.”

Kageyama perked up. “Really?”

“Of course. You can trust Oikawa-san.” He smiled, a hard flash of teeth. “Your little secret can stay right here between you and me.”

Kageyama nodded, as if he was truly reassured, as if he still trusted Oikawa’s word even after what had happened. “Thank you.”

“Did you know I was here?” said Oikawa. “When you took this job?”

“No. I knew you were somewhere, it was on the news, but… I didn’t know it was here.”

Oikawa believed him. Kageyama couldn’t tell a lie to save his life. “Alright then. I’ll talk to Tendou about the closet. He won’t go inside again, don’t worry about it.”

Oikawa, however, felt that he’d always been a decent liar.

“Kageyama!” The exclamation echoed down the hallway, bouncing from wall to wall until it reached them. A ball of energy hurtled close, stopping only when it had drawn even with Kageyama. “What’s going on? Is this guy causing trouble?”

Oikawa eyed him. He didn’t look as if he was old enough to have a job, let alone be trusted in this sort of position. His name badge read “Hinata”. He must have been a new guard, too. Oikawa didn’t know who was in charge of the hiring process, but he felt they should be fired immediately. 

Then again, he’d hired Kageyama once, too.

“No,” said Kageyama, looking away from Oikawa. “We were just talking.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to them,” said Hinata. He tried to whisper, but didn’t seem capable of it. “They’ll try and take advantage of us, remember?”

Oikawa thought of Iwaizumi, giving him that same advice the first time they’d met.

“Not to worry, Officer Hinata,” said Oikawa. “I was just asking Officer Kageyama a question. I’ll get out of your way. Welcome to the prison, by the way, both of you.” He offered a polite smile as he turned away. “I hope you both enjoy your time here.”

“Oh, uh… thank you?” said Hinata.

Kageyama jabbed an elbow into his ribs and hissed something in his ear. As Oikawa strode down the hall, back toward Block Two, he heard them bickering in low voices behind him.

Actually, Oikawa should write a thank-you note to whoever hired the two of them. He thought his life was about to get a little easier.

  
  
  
  
  
Unfortunately, Kageyama was mostly assigned to other Blocks, so Oikawa saw him infrequently. Hinata, however, became a common presence in Block Two.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa loved him.

“C’mon, just play one game with us!” said Hanamaki, waving the deck of cards in Hinata’s face. “It’ll be fun!”

“I’m not supposed to fraternize with the inmates.” Hinata said it with a slight pout, arms folded. 

“It’s not fraternizing. It’s just one quick game.”

“No,” said Hinata. He huffed and added, “I don’t know how to play poker anyway.”

Hanamaki grinned. “We’ll play Go Fish, then. You know that one?”

“Shut up, Makki,” said Iwaizumi as he passed by. “Leave him alone.”

Hanamaki frowned, but lowered the cards and took a small step back. Matsukawa mumbled something, and the two of them retreated into their cell to play on their own.

Hinata gave Iwaizumi a look that was half gratitude and half suspicion, but said nothing as he walked by. Oikawa offered Hinata a forced smile before following.

“I can’t believe they’re hiring fuckin’ kids now,” said Iwaizumi as they merged into the main hallway. “Babies are babysitting us.”

“He’s probably in his mid-twenties,” said Oikawa. “He just looks young because you’re so old.”

“I’m no older than you are.”

“Then maybe I’m old, too.”

“Maybe.”

Oikawa waited for Iwaizumi to ask, or to offer the information himself. He didn’t, and Oikawa wasn’t surprised. He should have learned his lesson by now about sharing personal information, but he said, “I’m twenty-nine.”

There was no immediate response, and Oikawa thought Iwaizumi would disregard that. It could have been worse. At least Iwaizumi hadn’t snapped at him this time.

As they approached the gym, Iwaizumi said, “I’m twenty-nine, too.” He stepped through the door, and Oikawa smiled as he did the same.

The gym wasn’t well-equipped, but it was better than Oikawa had expected from a prison. During his month of residence, he’d regained much of his lost muscle tone. He was in better shape than he’d been in months, and if he kept up this routine, he would be in peak physical condition by the time he got released. 

He hoped the routine would continue. Not just because of that, but because Iwaizumi was an excellent gym partner. Oikawa didn’t mind spending time with him. Despite Iwaizumi’s attitude, Oikawa often found himself looking forward to it.

That probably wasn’t a good thing.

Oikawa followed Iwaizumi to the small rack of weights against the far wall, but before he reached them, he realized the two of them weren’t alone.

Bokuto was on a mat in the corner, pumping out push ups with an intensity that was almost intimidating. His arms bulged against the tight loops of his rolled-up sleeves. He stopped with his palms flat on the floor, blinking through the sweat in his eyes to glance at them. He suspended his weight on one hand, wiped his face with the other, and went back to his workout as if they weren’t there.

“Hey, Iwaizumi?” said Oikawa, creeping close to him. “Bokuto is here. Should we go, or…?”

“Why would we?” said Iwaizumi. He grabbed one of the heaviest dumbbells and hefted it as if it was weightless. “He’s not a problem.”

“But-”

“It’s fine.” Iwaizumi grabbed a matching weight and headed to the nearest bench. Oikawa had little choice but to do the same.

He spared frequent glances for Bokuto, but he hardly seemed aware of them. When he’d finished his push-ups, he flipped over and started a long set of crunches. Oikawa’s abs burned just from watching him.

Their workout passed without incident. When Oikawa finally dismissed Bokuto as a non-threat, he watched Iwaizumi instead, which had become a common practice for him. Iwaizumi’s arms were thick, his muscles flexing beneath ink-stained skin. He was always focused when they were here, his eyebrows folded into a concentrated scowl. Sweat gathered at his temples, shining under the wash of the fluorescent lights overhead. 

It was a shame he was trapped in this prison. The rest of the world was really missing out.

Iwaizumi dropped his dumbbells with a huff, mopping his forehead with the shoulder of his uniform. “I need to piss,” he said, heaving himself to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa didn’t respond, but he did turn to watch Iwaizumi leave the room. Before he swiveled back around, he again caught sight of Bokuto, who now sat cross-legged in the corner with his eyes closed, as if he was meditating. Oikawa ignored him and braced himself for one more set of curls.

He’d almost counted through a dozen of them when the warm weight of an arm draped across his shoulders. His first thought was Iwaizumi, but that wasn’t right. Iwaizumi had never touched him. He looked up, and his heart stopped when he recognized the face leering down at him.

“Hey there, Oikawa-kun,” said Kuroo. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

The next second felt like a lifetime. Oikawa stared at that menacing grin, his heart restarting in a burst of panic. He thought this was one of those fight or flight moments he’d read about in school, but back then, they’d never talked about what to do when neither of those were an option. 

The dumbbells slipped out of his hands and thudded against the floor. He tried to stand, but Kuroo slammed a forearm into his chest and knocked him back down. There was a scuffle, a flurry of rough hands and sharp elbows, and Oikawa found himself flat against the bench with Kuroo sitting on his hips, pinning him down. Oikawa’s arms were trapped above him, but Kuroo wasn’t the one holding them. A quick glance upward revealed that Bokuto had entered the fray, his hands hot where they wrapped around Oikawa’s wrists.

“I’ve been waiting to find you by yourself,” said Kuroo. He patted at his hair, as if smoothing it out, but it was still a mess when he lowered his hand. “Guess you got smart, sticking with your friends all the time. Where are they now?”

“Iwaizumi was here with him,” said Bokuto. He glanced over his shoulder. “He might come back.”

“Let him,” said Kuroo. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Judging from the way Bokuto gnawed at his bottom lip, he felt differently.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a nice guy.” Kuroo frowned down at Oikawa, one eye covered by a fall of hair. “I can tolerate a lot of bullshit, but when someone has the audacity to spit in my face, that’s where I draw the line.”

Oikawa pulled against Bokuto’s grip; it was too solid to budge. “You threatened me first.”

“I was just messing with you to piss Iwaizumi off. I didn’t have anything against you.” He braced a hand on Oikawa’s chest and leaned forward, the weight making his breath come short. “Now I do.”

“Kuroo, maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Shut up, Bo.”

“What are you expecting to get out of this?” said Oikawa. He tried to keep his voice steady. “There’s nothing for you to gain here.”

“I’ll get the satisfaction of watching you bleed,” said Kuroo. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Look, we can talk about this.” Talking was good. Oikawa needed to keep him talking. Iwaizumi had said he would be right back. He just had to wait it out. “There’s no point in fighting. Let’s just-”

Oikawa wasn’t sure how he’d intended to finish that sentence. He never got the chance.

Kuroo swung at him, and with his hands pinned, Oikawa could only close his eyes and take it.

The punch slammed into his cheek, snapping his head to the side. The impact burned, and warm copper burst on his tongue.

Oikawa squeezed his eyes closed, fighting back the cry of panic building in his throat. If he screamed, one of the guards might hear, but he thought that might make things worse. Relying on the guards wasn’t the way things worked here. The inmates had to fend for themselves. 

Oikawa had to fend for himself.

He thrashed beneath Kuroo, struggling to throw him off. Kuroo locked his legs around the sides of the bench and jabbed a fist into his ribs, the crackle of pain knocking the breath from Oikawa’s lungs. He punched Oikawa again, the blow hitting him square in the mouth.

“Stay the fuck still,” hissed Kuroo. “The more you fight, the worse it’ll be.”

“Fuck you.” Oikawa knew he should lay back, take whatever Kuroo gave him, and hope for the best. That was how he’d planned to navigate prison, before he’d arrived. He wanted to keep a low profile, stay passive and non-threatening. 

Clearly that strategy wasn’t working, and he didn’t want Iwaizumi to think he’d rolled over and given up.

Kuroo hit him again, this one glancing off of his jaw. The others had been worse. Oikawa hardly felt that one. He said as much, the words bubbling through a mouthful of blood, and Kuroo sneered down at him.

“You’re just begging to get fucked up, aren’t you, asshole?”

Oikawa sucked the blood off of his teeth and said nothing.

“No one will recognize that pretty face of yours when I’m done with it.” Kuroo gripped his chin and leaned closer. “You’ll look like prison trash, just like the rest of us.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. Kuroo realized what he was about to do just in time. He pulled back, and the wad of bloody saliva slapped against the collar of his uniform. 

Kuroo drew his fist back, teeth bared. “You absolute piece of _shit_.”

Oikawa closed his eyes and turned his head, bracing for the blow.

It never came.

Bokuto yelped, and suddenly Oikawa’s hands were free. Before he could take advantage of that, Kuroo was hauled off of him and slammed against the concrete wall, Iwaizumi’s fists bunched in the front of his shirt.

“What the _fuck_ did I tell you?” snarled Iwaizumi, only an inch away from Kuroo’s face. 

Kuroo should have been afraid. Oikawa would have been terrified, if Iwaizumi looked at him like that. But Kuroo just grinned, mocking. “I don’t know, Iwaizumi. What did you tell me?”

Iwaizumi took a step back, pulling Kuroo with him, and shoved him against the wall again. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“No, but you are, if you think I’m afraid of you.” Kuroo wrapped his fingers around Iwaizumi’s wrists, but didn’t try to pry his hands away. “You’re not going to do anything that’ll get you in trouble, not anymore. When is it? Next month, right?”

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw. “I don’t care about that.”

“I think you do,” said Kuroo. “If you didn’t, you would’ve already knocked me the fuck out.”

Iwaizumi’s fists tightened. Oikawa expected him to slam Kuroo into the wall again, or throw a punch that would leave him reeling.

Iwaizumi just scowled, and Kuroo grinned back.

“Hey! What’s going on in here?”

Oikawa didn’t even look toward the door, where the voice was. He couldn’t look away from Iwaizumi. 

A guard stomped past and seized Iwaizumi by the shoulders, yanking him away from Kuroo. He took a step back, looking between the two of them, his hand hovering over the OC spray on his belt.

Of course it was Kageyama. Oikawa would have been surprised by anyone else.

“I’m sorry, officer,” said Kuroo. He raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to start anything. He came at me, and I just-”

“Bullshit,” spat Iwaizumi. “Every time you open your mouth, all that falls out are fucking lies.”

“Officer, please. He said he was going to knock my teeth in.” Kuroo’s eyes went wide, like he was afraid. It would have been believable, if Oikawa hadn’t known better. “I don’t want any trouble. You can check my record. I’ve never gotten any points. I try to be a model inmate. I just want to do my time and get out.”

“You lying sack of-”

“That enough.” Kageyama popped open the pouch, the ominous click bringing them to silence.

Oikawa had never been sprayed, but the atmosphere suggested it was not something he wanted to experience.

Kageyama looked between the two of them, spared a glance for Bokuto, who was standing awkwardly to the side, and finally focused on Oikawa. “What happened to you?”

Oikawa licked his lips. They tasted like blood. “Nothing.”

Kageyama’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing happened,” said Oikawa again. “I tripped and fell into the weight rack.”

Iwaizumi looked at him. His expression was unreadable.

Kageyama’s attention shifted to Kuroo. He didn’t seem to notice the blood on his knuckles. “Did you hit him?”

“Of course not.” The feigned innocence was impressive. “I would never.”

The moment dragged on. Kageyama was clearly struggling. 

“It’s fine, officer,” said Oikawa quietly. “It was just an accident.”

Kageyama may or may not have believed him, but he took the lifeline. “Alright then. All of you get out of here. If there’s more trouble from any of you today you’ll get thrown in solitary for a week. Understood?”

There was a murmur of assent. Bokuto darted out the door first, Kuroo strolling a few paces behind. Iwaizumi glared at him with such heat that it was surprising he didn’t burst into flame. 

Kageyama stepped around Iwaizumi, warily, and approached Oikawa. “Oikawa-san. Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Oikawa used his tongue to prod at his teeth. They were still there, and none of them felt loose. “I think I’m okay.”

“You can tell me what happened,” said Kageyama. “I’ll take care of it.”

Oikawa sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kageyama nodded and backed away. “I’ll have to tell the Captain about this. He may want to talk to you.”

Oikawa didn’t answer.

“Both of you, out,” said Kageyama, gesturing toward the door. “We’ll have to disinfect this room now.”

Oikawa stood, and realized he’d dripped blood all over the floor. It was down the front of his shirt too. He wondered if it would wash out.

“Come on,” said Iwaizumi, the words a low rumble. He stormed into the hallway, checking over his shoulder to make sure Oikawa was behind him. He led them back toward Two, and into their block’s bathroom. Oikawa stood by quietly as Iwaizumi grabbed a towel and ran it under the faucet. When it was dripping, he wrung it out and tossed it to Oikawa. 

Oikawa caught it, and hesitated long enough that Iwaizumi huffed.

“Clean the blood off your face,” said Iwaizumi, giving him a surprisingly gentle nudge toward the mirrors. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa dabbed at his bloody lip with a wince. “Feel like it, too.”

Iwaizumi came up behind him, watching in the mirror. “You really can go to the infirmary if you need to. I’ll show you where it is.”

Oikawa closed his eyes and took a breath. Somewhere beneath his pain and frustration, he felt gratitude. “I think I’m okay. No permanent damage.”

Iwaizumi grunted and said nothing else. 

Oikawa mopped up his face, rinsed out the towel, and peeled his lips back to inspect his teeth. As he’d suspected, they were all still intact.

“Why didn’t you tell the guard what happened?”

Oikawa glanced up and caught Iwaizumi’s stare in the mirror. “That’s not how prison works, right?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, but Oikawa could have sworn he almost smiled. If he did, it was gone immediately, replaced by a glare. “Something needs to be done about Kuroo.”

Oikawa couldn’t disagree. He didn’t want a repeat showing, but he had a feeling he would go through this all over again the next time Kuroo found him alone. Next time he might not be so lucky.

If Iwaizumi hadn’t stepped in, Oikawa didn’t know when Kuroo would have stopped. When Oikawa was unconscious, maybe.

Or when he was dead.

“Thanks,” said Oikawa. He draped the towel over the edge of the sink and turned. “For stepping in.”

Iwaizumi shrugged off the gratitude. “Whatever. I told you Block Two looks out for each other.”

Oikawa started to ask a question, hesitated. He shouldn’t, and Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t answer, anyway. Still, he said, “What did Kuroo mean, about you not wanting to get in trouble? Something about next month.”

Iwaizumi’s face folded into a frown. He looked away from Oikawa, staring at the empty showers. Silence stretched on, long enough that Oikawa thought about walking away. Finally, after a few dragging minutes, Iwaizumi said, “When I got sentenced, they gave me ten to fifteen. My ten years is up next month. I have a parole hearing, to see if I get out or not.”

The information about the parole hearing was secondary. Oikawa fixated on the _ten years_ part. He’d only been there for a month and it felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t imagine wasting an entire decade in this place.

Then he realized that he now knew how old Iwaizumi was, so that meant-

“You were nineteen?” said Oikawa, shocked. “You’ve been here since you were _nineteen_?”

“I was sentenced at nineteen.” Iwaizumi folded his arms, still looking at nothing. “I was arrested at seventeen. I was in limbo for a year before they decided to try me as an adult, and the year after that I was just getting dragged through the system.”

Oikawa’s mouth was already open with another question before he stopped himself. He knew he couldn’t ask. No matter how desperately he wanted to know, he couldn’t ask. 

“If I get any points, especially for fighting, it hurts my chances of getting out,” said Iwaizumi. “Kuroo knows that. That’s probably why he’s been fucking with me lately. He thinks he can get away with it.”

Oikawa didn’t know what to say. He was still reeling from the fact that Iwaizumi had done… _whatever_ he had done… when he was just seventeen. 

A teenager’s mistake had landed him in prison for ten years.

“It’d almost be worth it to beat that smug ass grin off his face,” said Iwaizumi. “What’s another five years, anyway.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Iwaizumi stared at him, shocked. Oikawa was equally as surprised. He hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth. Now that it had, and Iwaizumi hadn’t immediately swung at him, he decided to roll with it.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Oikawa. He checked himself in the mirror again, just to avoid Iwaizumi’s stare, and wiped at a fresh dribble of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Five years is a long time. You’d be halfway through your thirties before you saw the outside of this place. Kuroo’s bullshit isn’t worth your life.”

“This place is my life. It’s always been my life.” Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his pockets. His shoulders slumped forward. “Maybe it’s best to just stay, you know? I don’t know what it’s like out there anymore. I’m probably better off in here. At least I know where I stand.”

Oikawa turned toward him, slowly. He was very aware that Iwaizumi was sharing something personal, something that Oikawa never would have expected to hear from him. He couldn’t say something stupid and mess this up.

“If you want the truth, the outside is almost as bad as the inside. In some places, anyway.” He wiped at his mouth again, but his hand came away clean. “Some assholes out there are way worse than some of the guys in here. It sucks sometimes, and it’s hard to get by, and it just feels like everything is a struggle.” He leaned against the wall by the sink, memorizing the lines of Iwaizumi’s profile. “It’s harder out there in a lot of ways, but it doesn’t matter. It’s worth it all. It’s worth it to know you can go where you want and do what you want, and no one will stop you. If you want to stay up all night watching Netflix, that’s okay. If you want to stay in bed all day and be left alone, that’s okay, too. You can choose what you want to eat, whenever you want it. You can join a gym that has decent equipment and go at all hours of the night. If everything gets to be too much, you can get in a car and drive out of the city, and just keep driving until there’s no one around but the stars. You have to get out of this place while you can.”

Iwaizumi’s scowl was gone. He appeared thoughtful, his face smooth.

When he wasn’t scowling, he looked younger.

“You know Kuroo will come after you,” said Iwaizumi, solemn. “Just to provoke me.”

“Let him. I can take care of myself.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched again, in that almost-smile. “You weren’t doing such a good job twenty minutes ago.”

Oikawa stuttered over a protest, but gave up when he realized Iwaizumi was right.

Iwaizumi huffed under his breath, and it sounded like a laugh. “Just don’t get caught on your own again. Stick with me, or one of the Block Two guys. We’ll have your back, alright?”

“Alright.”

Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s shoulder, lightly, before stepping toward the door. “Let’s get back to the cellblock. I need to warn everyone about Kuroo.”

Oikawa followed, and despite the throbbing ache from his face and his ribs, he felt better than he had in the past month.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, since I was kinda late last week!

Oikawa assumed people got beaten up in prison all the time. He thought taking a few punches wouldn’t be a big deal.

He was wrong.

“’Scuse me, sorry, out of the way!” A singsong voice traveled through the lunch line, nudging inmates aside as it approached. Tendou slid into line behind Oikawa, an owlish look on his face. “Oikawa-kun! What a surprise, running into you like this.”

“You came over here on purpose.”

“I heard you got in a fight,” said Tendou, ignoring him. “And I see it was true. Looks like you lost pretty bad, huh?”

“No, I didn’t.” Oikawa shuffled forward as the line moved. “I can’t lose if I didn’t fight back.”

“If you didn’t fight back, then you definitely lost.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Just wondering what happened,” said Tendou with a shrug. “Since we’re _friends_ and all.”

Oikawa thought back to the broom closet incident. He didn’t think he wanted to be Tendou’s friend, but it seemed much safer than the alternative.

“Nothing happened. I tripped in the gym and fell into the weight rack.”

Tendou propped an elbow on Oikawa’s shoulder. He had to go up on his toes to get a good angle. “That’s a nice story. Now tell me what really happened.”

Oikawa sighed. He didn’t think there was any harm telling Tendou. It wasn’t as if he was going to run off and snitch to the guards. “Kuroo.”

“That’s what I thought.” Tendou craned his head to the side, staring off across the cafeteria. Kuroo was at his usual table, and now that Oikawa had met him, he recognized Kozume sitting beside him. “Kuroo looks alright. Did you even get a single punch in?”

“I said I didn’t fight back.”

“That’s a no, then.”

Oikawa gritted his teeth and took another shuffling step forward. Tendou stayed right beside him.

“I’ve never been great at fistfights,” said Tendou. “I’m more of a surprise stabbing kind of guy. Semi is great at fighting, though. He’d be happy to help you out if you need some tips.”

Oikawa doubted Semi would be happy to help him with anything at all. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” They took another step in tandem. “He did fight Iwaizumi that one time, though. The last time he was here. Iwaizumi won by just a hair.” Tendou pinched his fingers together to illustrate. “They were both busted up pretty bad. You saw his missing tooth, remember? But I think Semi-Semi could take him now. Iwaizumi’s mellowed out since then.”

Oikawa didn’t know what Iwaizumi had been like before if he could now be considered mellow. “What were they fighting over?”

“Something stupid, probably. That was back before Ushijima and Iwaizumi got along. Everyone was fighting all the time over something. Except Kuroo, coincidentally. He always kept out of it. Say what you want about him, but Kuroo’s a smart guy. He knows what he’s doing.”

Oikawa slid another sideways glance at the Block Three table. He wanted to argue with Tendou about that, but he had a sinking feeling he was absolutely right.

Kuroo wasn’t an idiot, but all this would have been easier if he was.

“Does it hurt?” asked Tendou, prodding a finger into the bruise staining Oikawa’s cheekbone. 

Oikawa slapped him away with a glare.

“That’s a yes.” Tendou tried to poke him again and his hand was smacked down. “I’ve got something for that. It’ll wash the pain right out.”

“I’m not interested in drugs.”

Tendou’s eyebrows shot upward. “Excuse you. I have never used a single drug in my life and I’m offended that you would think otherwise.”

Oikawa’s stare was flat.

Tendou cackled, and it drew the attention of everyone on that side of the cafeteria. He slung an arm across Oikawa’s shoulders and leaned close. “Okay, that was a lie. Seriously though, no drugs. It’s totally legal.” He paused. “It would be on the outside, anyway. I’ve never gotten caught though, so it’s safe. I swear. I would never lead you astray, Oikawa-kun.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“C’mon, just think about it,” said Tendou. The pair of them took one more step, and it brought them to the food counter. “You know where my room is. Come find me later and I’ll show you a good time. No sexual innuendo intended.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Oikawa, just to shut him up.

Tendou twirled in place, victorious, and promptly stepped in front of Oikawa to grab a breakfast tray. Oikawa wondered if Tendou had really meant to offer him something or if he was just using this conversation as an excuse to cut line. 

Oikawa took his own tray of food and shuffled back toward the rows of tables, heading for the one occupied by Block Two.

He didn’t make it there.

“Oikawa.”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried easily over the multitude of conversations. It was distinct, and Oikawa knew exactly who would be looking at him when he turned around.

Ushijima inclined his head, a silent request for Oikawa’s company.

Oikawa thought about ignoring him. Maybe that was for the best, considering the general separation of cellblocks. He glanced the other way, at the Block Two table. Iwaizumi was there, but he was focused on his food. He was paying no attention to Oikawa.

After a tense second of indecision, Oikawa turned and slowly approached the Block One table, standing awkwardly beside Ushijima.

“Sit.”

Oikawa’s leg twitched to obey, but he stayed firmly planted. “Thanks, but I’ve been sitting with my new cellblock.”

Ushijima’s attention strayed across the cafeteria, probably toward Block Two, and then returned. Oikawa felt it settle onto him like a physical weight. “Tsutomu has served his time. He will be released next week.”

The man in question was at the other end of the table, chatting with Tendou. He was laughing at something Tendou had said, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. It was a different veneer than he’d worn the first time Oikawa had seen him, when he’d been an emotional mess over his family.

“Umm… good for him.” Oikawa wasn’t sure why Ushijima felt the need to tell him.

“When he goes,” said Ushijima, “there will be an open bed in our cellblock.”

It still took a few seconds for Oikawa to catch on. When he did, the realization snapped him like a breaking rubber band. “Oh.”

“I will arrange to have you transferred back to Block One,” said Ushijima. He’d already eaten most of his breakfast. Only a small corner of eggs remained. “It is possible that another inmate may be assigned to this prison in the future that will necessitate a bed in my block, but I will keep you with us as long as I can.”

“That’s okay,” said Oikawa. He adjusted his grip on his breakfast tray. Thinking about Ushijima’s offer was making his palms sweaty. “I’ll just stick with Block Two. They’re not bad. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Ushijima studied him, long enough that Oikawa grew uncomfortable.

“It does not appear you are faring well in Block Two.” He must have meant Oikawa’s bruises, which had only worsened overnight. “My cellblock offers protection. Kuroo and his friends do not bother us.”

Kuroo had certainly bothered Oikawa when he’d been assigned to Block One, if the head shaving incident could be considered _bothering_. Oikawa chose not to mention that.

“Thanks,” he repeated, “but I can handle it.”

Ushijima looked as if he disagreed, but he didn’t push. “Alright then. You have several days to change your mind.”

That wasn’t going to happen, but Oikawa kept those words to himself, too. He gave Ushijima a nod, hoping it seemed like gratitude. When he finally made it to the Block Two table and sank into the empty seat beside Iwaizumi, he only hoped none of them had noticed.

Of course that was too much to ask for.

“Why were you talking to Ushijima?” 

If anyone else had said it, Oikawa would have shrugged off the question.

But Iwaizumi was wasn’t anyone else.

“One of his guys is getting released next week.” Oikawa reached for his spork. The oatmeal he’d been served looked like mud, but maybe the taste would outmatch the appearance. “He offered to transfer me back to his block.”

Iwaizumi didn’t immediately respond, and Oikawa thought the conversation was over. He was two bites into the oatmeal – which had the consistency of mashed potatoes – before Iwaizumi said, “So I’ll have a new cellmate next week?”

Oikawa snorted. “You’re not that lucky. Of course I’m not going back to Block One.”

“Why?”

Oikawa struggled to unstick the oatmeal from the roof of his mouth. When he swallowed, it was like a warm lump of slime had settled in his stomach. 

“Why would I?” said Oikawa, cringing. “They’re not terrible, but they’re kind of weird. Block Two is better company. For the most part, anyway. Excluding Hanamaki.”

“Hey!”

Oikawa smiled to himself. He’d known Hanamaki had been eavesdropping from across the table. “I’m kidding.” He glanced over just as Iwaizumi turned away, but Oikawa could have sworn there was something softer than usual about Iwaizumi’s face. He wanted to think it was relief, that Iwaizumi was at least a little pleased that Oikawa had decided to stay.

“Unless,” said Oikawa, “you’d rather I transferred back to One.”

Iwaizumi shrugged a shoulder. “Do whatever you want.”

Oikawa’s heart sank. Maybe Iwaizumi didn’t care after all.

Iwaizumi stood and grabbed his tray off of the table, preparing to dump it and leave the cafeteria. Before he walked away, he said, “You’re not the worst cellmate I’ve ever had, though.” 

It wasn’t an outright compliment by any means.

Still, Oikawa felt a little brighter as he tried to stomach the rest of his breakfast.

  
  
  
  
  
The sun was out that day, which meant the inmates were out, too. It was warm enough that Oikawa had his sleeves shoved up past his elbows, letting the heat soak into his forearms. He’d lost most of his color, his skin washed in a weak pallor from spending too much time indoors; aside from the spray of color borrowed from the bruising on his face, which he was trying not to think about.

Iwaizumi had been in prison much longer, from what Oikawa had gathered, yet his skin was still bronzed as if he worked in the sun on a daily basis. It wasn’t just his face and arms, either. Oikawa had noticed from a few subtle glances in the showers that it was his natural tone. If he hadn’t been wearing a uniform, Iwaizumi wouldn’t have looked as if he was in prison at all. 

Oikawa chanced another of those sly glances toward him as they walked along the trail that looped the yard. 

Actually, even without the uniform, the tattoos may have given it away. Especially the one on his face, which Oikawa still caught himself thinking about more often than he should.

“What’s wrong?”

Oikawa blinked. He was worried that Iwaizumi had caught him staring, but his face was forward, taking in the yard. “What do you mean?”

Iwaizumi turned his head toward Oikawa, one brow raised. “You stopped talking. You only do that when you’re thinking too hard or when you’re sleeping.”

“I don’t talk that much.”

“You didn’t at first,” said Iwaizumi. “Back when you thought I was going to murder you. Now you never shut up.”

Oikawa almost argued with him on general principle, but realized that would only prove Iwaizumi’s point. Instead he kept his mouth shut and wondered if he was right.

Oikawa didn’t think he’d been talking much, certainly not enough for Iwaizumi to notice a difference. He supposed he had become more comfortable over the past few weeks, though. Maybe he’d become more vocal without realizing it.

“You went quiet again,” said Iwaizumi. He adjusted one of his sleeves, which he’d rolled up all the way to his shoulders. It put his arms on full display, and Oikawa was having a difficult time not staring at the strong swell of his biceps. “What it is?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Iwaizumi looked up at the sparse clouds, squinting against the brightness. “It doesn’t bother me. I was just asking what’s wrong.”

“I was just thinking,” said Oikawa, realizing as he said it that Iwaizumi had been exactly right about the source of his silence. 

“What about?”

Oikawa had been thinking about Iwaizumi’s impending parole hearing. He’d been wondering what things would be like if Iwaizumi got released; who his new cellmate would be, if the Block Two guys would still be nice to him, if Kuroo would cut Oikawa’s throat when Iwaizumi was no longer around to protect him.

“My cat,” said Oikawa, choosing to keep all of that to himself. “I don’t know who took her after I was arrested. She may have ended up at the shelter, which the spiteful little demon would have deserved, but I hope she’s somewhere nice anyway.”

“Who could blame her,” said Iwaizumi. “If I’d had to live with you, I would’ve been a fucking demon, too.”

“You’re rude.”

“Nah, just honest.”

“Yo, Oikawa! Catch!”

Oikawa turned at the sound of his name, but not quickly enough to react. A basketball slammed into his ribs, exactly where Kuroo had hit him the day before. There was a burst of staggering pain and he stumbled back, bumping clumsily into Iwaizumi, one arm curled around his torso to hold himself together. 

The ball had rolled away. From his hunched posture, Oikawa saw a foot prop on top of it, lean forearms descending to scoop it up. He bit down on the pain and raised his head to find Kuroo leering at him, the ball tucked neatly beneath his arm. 

“What’s wrong, Oikawa-kun? I didn’t throw it that hard.”

Iwaizumi stepped between them, and though Oikawa couldn’t see his face, he felt the boiling anger. “Back off of him, Kuroo.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Kuroo’s voice was innocent, but his smirk was predatory. “I only wanted to invite him to join our game. How about it, Oikawa-kun? Feel up to it?”

“Fuck off,” said Oikawa, more wheeze than voice.

“That was very hurtful.” Kuroo placed a hand over his heart, as if he’d been wounded. Still, his grin didn’t waver. “I’m just trying to be a good host here. You look like you’ve had a rough time lately. I wanted you to feel included, you know?”

Iwaizumi’s hands curled into fists, muscles going taught from his forearms all the way up to his shoulders. He took a step forward, one fist inching back, and Oikawa reached out to catch his wrist. 

“Stop, Iwaizumi. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fucking fine.” The words burned like acid.

Someone called out from the court, and Kuroo shrugged the two of them off. “Well, got to get back to the game. If you change your mind, you’re always welcome, Oikawa-kun.” He waved at them, eyes flashing with a blend of ferocity and humor, before turning away. 

Iwaizumi tried to go after him, but Oikawa stood upright through the pain and tugged on his wrist again. 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Iwaizumi turned on him with a glare. If this had happened a month ago, Oikawa would have cowered away from him. Now he stood his ground, still slightly hunched over his ribs. 

“You’re not throwing away your parole because of me,” said Oikawa. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re the one who’s fucking stupid,” snapped Iwaizumi. “If you think I’m going to let him get away with-”

“I do think that,” said Oikawa, cutting him short, “because you are. If you get out next month this won’t be your problem anymore.”

“And if I don’t,” said Iwaizumi, “things will be twice as bad because he thinks he can walk all over me.”

“Worry about it then, if you don’t get released.” Oikawa tried not to wince as he stood at his full height. “For now you have to let it go. You know he wants you to react. You said it yourself. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Fuck you.” Iwaizumi turned on his heel, but didn’t move until Oikawa recovered enough to walk alongside him. They’d almost reached the scatter of picnic tables, where the rest of Block Two sat, when he said, “You alright?”

Oikawa had been silently whining about the pain, but Iwaizumi’s concern suddenly made it more bearable. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Iwaizumi grunted and gestured to the empty spot beside Matsukawa. “Stick with them. I’m going to commissary before it closes. I need some shit.”

“Okay.”

Iwaizumi looked at him, long enough that Oikawa wondered how bad his face must have been for Iwaizumi to stare at it like that. Then he walked away, alone, and Oikawa sat with the rest of the block.

“Thought we almost had a fight on our hands,” said Hanamaki. He was shuffling his pack of cards, the one that Oikawa thought he’d somehow rigged. “It’s too bad Iwaizumi didn’t jump him. We haven’t had an all-out brawl in a while. It would’ve been fun, right, Mattsun?”

“Only if I got to fight the tall one.” He eyed one of the Block Three guys from across the yard, the one with silver hair who trailed after Kozume. 

“Nah,” said Hanamaki. “He’s tall, but he’s not that tough. I think Kindaichi would be a good match for him. What do you think, Yuutarou?”

Kindaichi stammered over a response that made it clear he had no interest in fighting anyone at all.

“I’d fight him,” growled Kyoutani from the far end of the table, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. “I’d fight any of them. Fuckin’ all of them, even.”

“We know that,” said Hanamaki, dealing out a fresh hand of cards. He tossed some in front of Oikawa without asking if he wanted to join. “Everyone knows that. The extra five years that got added to your sentence for fighting proves it.”

Kyoutani glared at him, but didn’t argue.

“That only proves he’s stupid,” said Yahaba, scooping up his cards.

“Fuck off.”

“Then what’s it say about you?” said Matsukawa, raising a brow at the pair of them. “You weaseled your way out of the extra time, but you were right there with him.”

Yahaba shrugged and tossed a card into the middle of the table, beginning the game.

Reluctantly, Oikawa picked up his own hand of cards, already resigned to a loss.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa went back to the cellblock before dinner, only because he was tired of hearing Hanamaki nag him about his inability to win a single game. Oikawa had accused him of cheating, and the way Hanamaki had laughed off his suspicions convinced Oikawa even further.

Fortunately Kyoutani had gotten sick of hearing him too, and Oikawa tagged along with him when he went back inside.

Kyoutani wouldn’t have been Oikawa’s first choice of companion, but he had a feeling that if a fight broke out, he would be a highly valuable ally. That was obvious not only from his attitude, but from the scars that peppered his skin like Iwaizumi’s tattoos. That suggested he had more than a little experience with brawls, and potentially knife fights, judging from the pale, healed slashes. Oikawa wondered if Kyoutani had a hidden shank like Tendou. 

Oikawa considered striking up a conversation as they walked, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Iwaizumi had been a ray of sunshine when they’d first met compared to the façade of enraged stone that was Kyoutani’s resting face.

They made it back to the cellblock without incident and without a single exchanged word. Kyoutani seemed satisfied by that, and didn’t spare Oikawa a second glance as he branched off to go to his cell. Oikawa bypassed it and went to his own at the end of the row, hoping Iwaizumi had returned there after his trip to commissary. 

It was empty, and Oikawa sat on the edge of his bed with a huff. The springs squeaked beneath him, the same as they did every single time he moved. 

He was so sick of this place already. It was going to be a long two years.

He collapsed onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his most hated yet most frequent pastime. At least now he was on good terms with Iwaizumi, which killed the monotony a bit. If he’d stayed in Block One with Shirabu as his roommate, he may have gone insane.

He adjusted his position, winced as the movement pulled at his ribs, and caught a glimpse of something shining from the corner of his eye. He sat up, braced himself on an arm for support, and turned toward the small table at the head of his bed. There was an old, crinkled novel that Iwaizumi had lent him, a small bottle of shampoo that he’d gotten from commissary, and a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses that had definitely not been there that morning.

Oikawa pushed himself to his feet and picked them up by the edge of the frames, studying them beneath the fluorescent light overhead. They were a bit larger than he would have chosen himself, but not as hideous as he would have expected from something that came from commissary, which is where they must have been acquired. There was no other way to get items here without smuggling contraband, and he was fairly sure glasses wouldn’t be the go-to item to sneak into prison.

Oikawa put them on slowly, blinking as they slid into place. Everything went a little too sharp, and he squinted through the lenses. When he picked up the book and flipped it open to a random page, though, the writing was perfectly clear.

He remembered Iwaizumi’s comment from several days before, about Oikawa needing glasses. 

There was a hitch in Oikawa’s chest, and he felt a sudden, insane urge to cry.

“Why’re you just standing around in here? You coming to dinner or not?”

Oikawa turned, the blur of the lenses making him dizzy, and found a slightly fuzzy Iwaizumi standing in the doorway of the cell. He pushed the glasses on top of his head and Iwaizumi’s face floated into clearer view. “Did you get these for me?”

Iwaizumi glanced up at the glasses, the frames almost lost in the waves of Oikawa’s hair, and quickly looked away again. “I figured your stupid ass would go blind trying to read without them.”

Oikawa put the book back on the table, and carefully folded the glasses to place them on top. “You spent your commissary money on them?”

Iwaizumi shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If I’m getting out I’m not going to use it, anyway.”

“But they cash it out, right?” said Oikawa. “When you get released they give you whatever money is left over.”

“They were cheap, okay?” snapped Iwaizumi. “It’s not a big deal. If you don’t want them then I’ll take them the fuck back.”

Oikawa smiled, unconvinced by Iwaizumi’s attitude. “No, I want them. Thank you, Iwaizumi.”

“Whatever.” Iwaizumi turned away from him. “Let’s go to dinner before the line gets too long.” 

“Of course,” said Oikawa, following after him. He was still smiling. “I’m right behind you.”

  
  
  
  
  
Dinner went the same as every other day. Oikawa got his food, tried to pretend it came from a restaurant instead of the prison cafeteria, and listened to Hanamaki ramble on about the subject of the day. 

Oikawa only half-listened. He was too caught up thinking about the glasses, and that Iwaizumi liked him enough to spend perfectly good money on him for no real reason. 

He was also thinking about the way his ribs hurt every time he breathed.

They hadn’t been so bad the day before. Apparently when Kuroo had slung the ball at him, it had aggravated the previously minor injury. His face ached slightly, but now his ribs overshadowed that pain. 

“You look constipated,” said Hanamaki, tilting his head to study Oikawa from across the table. “You should’ve finished your oatmeal this morning.”

“That oatmeal was disgusting,” said Oikawa. “And I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t worried,” said Hanamaki. “Just observing.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, picked over his food for another few minutes, and rose to carry his tray to the return.

Unfortunately, it seemed Tendou had finished his dinner at the exact same moment.

“Ah, Oikawa-kun!” he said, dumping his tray on top of Oikawa’s. It was scraped clean, but Oikawa expected his tablemates had helped him with that. Tendou had never finished a tray of food on his own when Oikawa had been around. That may have been why he was so scrawny. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“We saw Kuroo fucking with you earlier.” Tendou matched Oikawa’s pace as they walked toward the door. “Ushijima couldn’t step in because it has nothing to do with us. You should’ve accepted his offer to come back to Block One. Kuroo wouldn’t touch you if you were one of us.”

Again, Oikawa thought of the head shaving incident, and again he kept his snide comments to himself. “I’m fine where I am.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“I already had this exact conversation with Ushijima,” said Oikawa. He spoke more sharply than he intended, the ache in his ribs robbing him of patience. “Unless you have anything new to add, I’m going back to my cell.”

“Looks like you’re growing a pair after all,” said Tendou with a grin. “Prison is shaping you right up. You’ll be a bitter bitch like the rest of us in no time.”

That didn’t make sense to Oikawa, but that was true of most things Tendou said. 

“You should come pay Block One a quick visit,” suggested Tendou. “For old times’ sake.”

“We’re only allowed in our assigned blocks.”

“True, but Tanaka and Nishinoya are on duty in our block tonight.” They were approaching Block Two, but Tendou used himself as a barrier to keep Oikawa from breaking away. “They don’t mind. As long as we don’t bother them, they let us do what we want. Besides, I have a little something for you, remember?”

Oikawa studied him. There were many reasons not to trust Tendou – including the fact that he was in prison – but the spark in his eyes made Oikawa trust him even less. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re overthinking it,” said Tendou. “You’re in pain, right? It’s written all over your face, and I don’t mean just the bruises. Let me help you, Oikawa-kun. We’re friends, after all. Friends look out for friends, even if they’re in different cellblocks.”

“I don’t think-”

“Then don’t think,” said Tendou. “Come on, trust me. You won’t get in trouble. I swear.”

Oikawa did not intend to go with him. He was searching for another excuse, a better one, when Tendou spoke up again.

“Just come visit for a few. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to take it. If the guards say anything, tell them I coerced you and I’ll take the fall for it. I already have enough points for half the guys in here. Another few won’t hurt me.”

Oikawa should have said no. He knew he should, he knew this was a bad idea, but still he found himself saying, “Fine. Just for a few minutes.”

If he’d been uncertain before, the fierce grin on Tendou’s face would have been enough to convince him that he’d just made a mistake.

  
  
  
  
  
It didn’t feel like a mistake, when he stumbled back toward his own cellblock an hour and a half later. It felt like he’d made a fantastic decision. His ribs didn’t hurt anymore, he’d forgotten about the bruised state of his face, and he was just _warm_ all over in a way he hadn’t felt in too long.

Oikawa had been wrong about Tendou. He was a great friend.

He grinned to himself and continued down the hallway, sliding his hand along the wall for balance.

He’d learned a lot about Tendou that night, and about Semi by extension. Semi had arrived several minutes after Oikawa, given him a skeptical look, then plopped down beside him and taken the paper cup out of his hand.

Oikawa had learned, through a slightly tipsy Tendou, that when Semi ran out of money on the outside, his first instinct was to take it from someone else. He had a string of robberies on his record that had landed him in prison on several occasions. The most recent incident had involved a handgun and had doubled his usual sentence. Semi was going to be in here for a while, long after Tendou was released.

Oikawa had a feeling Tendou would find his way back. If not for Semi, then because he would do something stupid once he got out, too.

Tendou had told his sordid arrest story, in more dramatic detail than was probably necessary. He’d grinned as he’d talked, about the girl he’d fallen in love with, who had refused to love him back. He insisted he’d tried to be reasonable, but somehow Oikawa doubted that. The situation had escalated into stalking, and while the police were looking for him, he’d slipped past them, broken into her house, and nearly strangled her to death before he was caught and dragged away. 

When Tendou had finished the retelling, he’d taken another long swig while Semi had laughed. That was evidence enough that Semi had been drunk. Oikawa had never even seen him smile. When he laughed he seemed normal, like someone Oikawa would have been friends with on the outside.

But nothing was normal in here, and Semi finding humor in Tendou’s attempted murder made that clear. Oikawa had only drank more to wash away any other nostalgic thoughts of the outside. He thought he’d told Tendou and Semi about his own crimes, but he couldn’t quite recall. Things had gotten fuzzy near the end. He didn’t even remember leaving Tendou’s cell, but he did think he’d seen Ushijima as he’d staggered out into the hallway.

It was hard to say for sure. Everything seemed a little distant, just out of reach, until he approached the door of his cell block. Before he made the turn to go inside, his tilting vision found a silhouette near the end of the hallway, one that he recognized instantly, despite how foggy his brain was.

“Iwaizumi.” The name was sticky, clumsy, but too low for anyone else to hear. Oikawa passed by the cellblock door and followed him. He knew his legs were moving, but he couldn’t really feel them. It was as if he was hovering, his feet hanging like dead weights beneath him. 

He hovered after Iwaizumi, down a back hallway that Oikawa had only ventured through once before. Blearily he remembered the broom closet incident, but rather than uncomfortable, it now seemed amusing.

Iwaizumi had stopped at the junction of the hallways, looking back and forth, as if searching for something. Oikawa shuffled up behind him, aiming for stealth, but Iwaizumi must have heard his approach. He turned, eyeing Oikawa sternly. “The fuck are you doing out here? It’s almost time for lights out. You looking to get a point?”

“You’re out here too, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa lightly. His words were a touch slurred, and he tried to speak more clearly. “You’re gonna get a point, too.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes went narrow. He took a quick sweep of Oikawa, lingering on the hand that was braced against the wall for stability. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe.”

“Where the fuck did you get hooch? We don’t do that shit in Block Two.”

Oikawa started to answer, but barely held the words back. This seemed like one of those things that he should keep to himself, one of those things that deserved prison confidentiality.

His silence didn’t make a difference.

“Tendou,” said Iwaizumi flatly. “Of course it was Tendou. The hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” He laughed under his breath. “What’re you looking for, Iwa-chan? Did you miss me?”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“It’s cute.” The floor tilted a little, and Oikawa shifted his feet to compensate. “Like you. You’re cute.”

Iwaizumi’s skepticism doubled. “Did Tendou put you up to this? It’s not fucking funny. Come on, we’re going back before we get in trouble.”

He swept past Oikawa, back the way they’d come, but Oikawa snatched at the air until he caught Iwaizumi’s sleeve.

“Wait.” He yanked at him, and both of them stumbled into the wall. “You bought me reading glasses with your commissary money.”

Iwaizumi frowned at the hand fisted in his sleeve. “I’m regretting that now.”

“And you protected me against Kuroo that one time,” continued Oikawa. He was vaguely aware that he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. “And that other time, too. And you almost fought him for me in the yard today.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him, as if he was trying and failing to follow Oikawa’s train of thought.

“You’ve been taking care of me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa released his sleeve, trailed his fingers along Iwaizumi’s arm instead. “You’re rude, but you’re nice too, when it counts.” He perched a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against a tattooed neck. He stepped closer, using his grip on Iwaizumi to keep his balance. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Iwaizumi’s face hadn’t changed. He watched Oikawa with a stony lack of expression, until Oikawa leaned close enough to breathe against his lips. Then his face changed, twisted with such ferocity that Oikawa’s heart slammed against his chest in panic just before Iwaizumi slammed him into the wall.

Oikawa’s head lolled back and knocked against the stone, but he barely felt it. More pressing was the hand around his throat, pinning him in place.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about?” Iwaizumi’s voice was a snarl, dripping with venom. “I’ve been looking out for you so you think you have to fuck your way out of my debt?”

Oikawa pawed at Iwaizumi’s wrist. “No,” he said, breathless. “That’s not… that’s not what I…”

“Or you think this is what you have to do, for me to keep protecting you?” He kicked Oikawa’s ankle to the side and he fell, barely catching himself on his hands and knees. He couldn’t recover before Iwaizumi seized a handful of hair and wrenched his head back. “You want to be my bitch? To get on your knees for me so I won’t let anyone else touch you? Is that what you’re after?”

“No,” gasped Oikawa. He tried to shake his head, but Iwaizumi’s grip in his hair was iron. “I just-”

Iwaizumi flung him to the side and Oikawa landed with a huff, the breath knocked out of his lungs. 

“I don’t know what they said about me in Block One,” said Iwaizumi, “but they’re fucking wrong. I look out for my block because I want to, not because I want something in return. I don’t take fucking favors. I had your back because you’re one of us, you asshole. Not because I want something from you.”

“Iwa… Iwaizumi, I don’t…”

“Fuck you.” Iwaizumi spat on the floor. “Kuroo can fucking have you. Maybe you can win him over with this bullshit.” He turned on his heel and stomped back toward Block Two. 

Oikawa laid back against the cold stone floor. His head was swimming, but he was now sober enough to know that he’d made a terrible mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

Kageyama found him, of course. That was just how Oikawa’s luck was treating him.

“Oikawa-san?” Kageyama crouched beside him, alarmed. “What happened? Did someone hurt you? Should I-”

“It’s fine, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa couldn’t have been lying there more than fifteen minutes, but as he tried to sit up, his joints were stiff enough to ache. Kageyama put a hand on his shoulder for support, and Oikawa fought back the urge to slap it away. “I tripped.”

“I’m not stupid, Oikawa-san.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Kageyama withdrew, wounded, and Oikawa sighed. 

“I didn’t mean that.” He cradled his head in his hands. The back of his skull throbbed, probably from hitting the wall. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as his pride. “I think I’m sick. I really did fall.” He had, with Iwaizumi’s help.

“Sick?” repeated Kageyama. He leaned closer, eyeing Oikawa’s face. He inhaled, and his nose scrunched in disgust. “You smell like alcohol. Are you… did you…?”

“Yeah, a little.” Oikawa was too exhausted to lie. 

“Alcohol is contraband. If you get caught with it you’ll get a new charge, plus points, and time will probably get added onto your sentence, and you-”

“I know, Tobio-chan. I know.” He tried to stand, stumbled, and finally made it upright with Kageyama’s assistance. On a normal day Oikawa would have slept on the floor rather than accept Kageyama’s help, but he had so many other problems that he hardly gave it a second thought. “I won’t do it again. Trust me.”

“Are you okay, Oikawa-san? I can take you to the infirmary.”

Oikawa almost agreed, just so he didn’t have to go to his own bed and face his cellmate, but he thought running away might just make things worse. “No. I just need to sleep it off. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

That was a blatant lie, but Kageyama didn’t seem to notice. “Okay. I’m working all night. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” Oikawa stumbled away from him, one hand pressed against the side of his head to try and push back the throbbing. 

He arrived back at the cellblock a few minutes before lights out. The guard on duty, Sugawara, gave him a suspicious look but let him pass without comment. Oikawa paced past the cells, his dread rising to a nauseating level as he approached the end of the row. 

Iwaizumi was there, of course. There was nowhere else for him to go. He was in his bed, lying on his side, back toward Oikawa’s side of the cell. It was unlikely he’d fallen asleep that fast. He was probably awake, listening to Oikawa shuffle across the floor and collapse into his own bed. Still, he didn’t stir, didn’t give a single indication that he was aware of Oikawa’s presence.

That was probably for the best, but Oikawa’s heart sank anyway. He’d finally built a friendly, comfortable relationship with his cellmate.

A little bit of alcohol had been enough to ruin it.

Oikawa buried his face in his pillow, but emerged when the pressure made his bruises ache.

He could blame the alcohol, but it was a feeble excuse. Oikawa was the problem. The absurd, hopeless feelings he’d developed for Iwaizumi had caused this.

He looked across the cell at Iwaizumi, studying the stiff line of his back even as the lights went down. The cell was still bright enough for him to see the slight roll of Iwaizumi’s shoulders as he shifted against the flat mattress.

He was awake. Oikawa could have said something, a desperate whisper that would have easily reached him. It could have been shaped into an apology or an explanation, anything that would have made Iwaizumi look at him with something other than scorn and disgust.

He could have said something, but he rolled in the opposite direction to stare at the wall. He closed his eyes and spent hours chasing sleep before it was finally found.

  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Oikawa nearly slept past roll call. He stumbled out of bed and barely made it to the door of his cell as Officer Ennoshita made his rounds, counting each of them before returning to the guard station at the front of the cellblock. 

Iwaizumi was in the hallway too, and Oikawa realized that he’d overslept because his cellmate typically woke him up in the mornings. Without a word or a single glance in Oikawa’s direction, Iwaizumi turned to walk away, probably going for an early breakfast. 

It was the first time they hadn’t gone to breakfast together in weeks.

Oikawa thought about skipping the meal altogether. He could lie in his bed, stare at the ceiling, and plan out what to say to Iwaizumi when he returned. Instead he waited until the very last minute to go to the cafeteria, and by then Iwaizumi was already gone. 

Oikawa couldn’t say for sure if Iwaizumi was avoiding him, but if so, he was doing a great job of it.

When Oikawa went to the showers, walking alongside Kindaichi, Iwaizumi was nowhere in sight. When Oikawa breezed past the gym, peeking through the clear windows, Iwaizumi wasn’t inside. When he went back to his cell to try and find him there, there was no sign of Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa still wasn’t sure what to say to him, but it seemed he may not get the chance to say anything at all.

He considered hiding in his cell for the rest of the day. Not only to avoid his problems, but because Iwaizumi eventually had to return, whether he wanted to or not. Five minutes after the thought crossed his mind, he became too antsy to sit still. He went out to the yard instead, and found Iwaizumi out on the basketball court, the sleeves of his white t-shirt rolled up to his shoulders. 

Oikawa had been playing ball with them ever since the first time he was coerced into it. This time, when Iwaizumi caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye, he turned his head and pretended Oikawa didn’t exist.

Oikawa couldn’t blame him, not really. If their situations had been reversed, he couldn’t say for certain that he would have reacted differently. 

At the time, influenced by the haze of Tendou’s terrible alcohol, it had seemed like a good opportunity to flirt with Iwaizumi. If he’d been sober, he would have realized that no time was a good time, not in here. Of course Iwaizumi thought Oikawa was doing it for self-serving reasons. He’d thought Oikawa was offering himself in exchange for protection, or in gratitude for Iwaizumi’s help. That was an obvious conclusion. They were in prison, after all. Things in here didn’t work the same way as they did on the outside.

“Did you piss off Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and realized Kunimi was staring at him.

Oikawa had migrated over to the picnic tables when he’d failed to receive an invitation to the game. Kunimi was the only inmate from Block Two who’d chosen to sit out, and Oikawa had joined him by default. He’d never seen Kunimi play a game. He was always content to be on the sidelines. 

“I, umm… why do you ask?”

“Because it seems like you pissed him off,” said Kunimi. 

Oikawa frowned. “I might have, yeah.”

“What’d you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kunimi didn’t seem bothered by that. Then again, he never seemed bothered by anything. “Whatever.”

The silence between them returned. It seemed louder than before, now that Oikawa was wondering if Iwaizumi had said something.

Ten minutes slipped by, then twenty. Enough time passed that Oikawa got stranded in his own circuitous thoughts again.

“The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

Oikawa glanced at Kunimi.

“Iwaizumi doesn’t let things go easily.” Kunimi folded his arms over his chest, eyes fixed on the basketball game that was gradually winding down as the afternoon wore on. “Pushing something aside and hoping it goes away won’t work with him. If you did something wrong, you have to fix it.”

Oikawa sighed, half-collapsing on top of the picnic table. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Figure it out.”

Oikawa wanted to snap at him, but he knew this wasn’t Kunimi’s fault. He was being helpful in his own frustrating way. It was odd, because Kunimi had never given any indication that he’d even noticed Oikawa’s existence.

He supposed Kunimi was just following the Block Two code that Iwaizumi had explained to him the night before, after he’d slammed Oikawa into a wall. Their Block looked out for each other, no matter what. Even Kunimi, who seemed not to care about anyone else on general principle.

Oikawa hadn’t followed that rule. Instead he’d made things awkward for Iwaizumi, driven a wedge into the peace of the cellblock.

He’d really fucked up.

He wanted to blame Tendou for coercing him into getting drunk, but that wasn’t right, either. Oikawa had made his own decisions, and they’d been the wrong ones.

When the game broke up an hour later, some of the players drifted toward the tables while others headed toward the main door. Iwaizumi was one of the latter, and Oikawa leapt out of his seat to chase after him. His ribs screamed in protest, but Oikawa tucked an arm against his side and ignored the pain. It wasn’t as severe as the day before. Either it was getting better, or he was just so preoccupied with his other problems that this one was easy to ignore. 

Iwaizumi was walking alongside Matsukawa, using his uniform shirt to mop the sweat off the back of his neck before he pulled it back on over his t-shirt. 

Oikawa wanted to talk to him, but at the same time, he really, really didn’t. As angry as Iwaizumi had been the night before, he feared he might get a black eye for his trouble.

Getting beaten up would be better than having Iwaizumi hate him, though.

“Iwaizumi? Hey, wait up. Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi glanced over his shoulder, then promptly ignored Oikawa altogether.

Matsukawa looked between them with interest.

Oikawa rushed after him, barely caught the door that Iwaizumi tried to sling in his face, and matched Iwaizumi’s stride. “Listen, I need to talk to you. I’ll make it quick.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even look at him. “I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go take a sink bath and then sit in your cell until dinner, the same as you do every day.”

Matsukawa’s head tilted back and forth between them, as if he was watching a moderately interesting tennis match.

“Fuck off,” said Iwaizumi.

“No. This is important, I just-”

“I said fuck off.”

Oikawa’s steps faltered. He stuttered to a stop in the hallway and watched Iwaizumi walk away.

He was disappointed, but more than that, he was annoyed. How was he supposed to make amends when Iwaizumi wouldn’t even listen to him?

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa turned into an adjacent hallway and disappeared. Oikawa watched them go, disappointment brewing in his gut. He thought about running after them, but didn’t think it would do any good. Iwaizumi wouldn’t listen to him. He would never listen to him again.

Maybe Oikawa should transfer to Block One, after all. He wondered which inmate had shared a cell with Goshiki. He knew it wouldn’t be Shirabu, or Tendou. The rest of them didn’t seem so bad. At least Oikawa had never gotten drunk and flirted with any of the Block One guys.

He wondered if Ushijima would still let him in, and how soon he would get kicked back out. Maybe next time he would be reassigned to Block Three and Kuroo would kill him while he slept. Oikawa had worried about Iwaizumi doing the same thing, when he’d first arrived. His worry about Iwaizumi hating him was somehow worse.

He didn’t realize he was still standing in the middle of the hallway until a long arm draped across his shoulders. 

Oikawa went rigid, panic kicking in his chest. He wrenched away and threw an arm up to protect himself. He wasn’t letting Kuroo mess his face up even worse. 

“Woah, take a breath, Oikawa-kun.” Tendou ogled Oikawa, eyes wide. “Someone’s a little jumpy today. Is it the hangover?”

Oikawa sighed and dropped his arm. HIs ribs ached, but it was bearable. “Oh. It’s just you.”

Tendou grinned. “Do my ears deceive me, or are you happy I’m here?”

For once, Oikawa was. The alternative was much worse. “Sure, whatever.” Oikawa pressed his back against the wall and slumped down to sit on the floor. His heartbeat was still too quick, but it was beginning to even out. He should go back outside and join his own cellblock, or head back to Block Two and hope Iwaizumi wasn’t there. Sitting in the hallway was stupid. Kuroo could show up at any time.

Tendou slouched down beside him, and Oikawa felt a little better. He couldn’t say for sure if Tendou would have his back in a fight, but he liked to think so. Maybe Oikawa could distract Kuroo and Tendou could stab him with his chicken bone shank.

“Why so glum?” asked Tendou, nudging Oikawa with an elbow. Fortunately it was his uninjured side. “You were in a great mood last night, my charming little thief.”

Oikawa sighed. It seemed he really had discussed his crimes while he’d been under the influence. “I’m fine.”

“Nothing about that looked fine,” said Tendou, gesturing in the direction that Iwaizumi and Matsukawa had disappeared. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“Because Iwaizumi doesn’t cause trouble. You, on the other hand…” He trailed off, waiting.

Oikawa said nothing. This wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Tendou, or anyone else.

Someone approached from the direction of the yard. Oikawa went stiff, but relaxed again when he recognized Semi. It wasn’t in his best interest to get comfortable with any of the inmates in that godforsaken prison, but he couldn’t help trusting Tendou and Semi to not snap his neck, at the very least. 

“What are you idiots doing in the floor?” asked Semi flatly.

“Oikawa-kun was just about to tell me his troubles,” said Tendou. He patted the floor beside him. “I saved you a seat, Semi-Semi.”

Semi folded his arms but didn’t move. “It’s none of your business. Let’s go.”

“Semi-Semi.” Tendou gasped, feigning offense. “Oikawa-kun is our dear friend now.” He wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s neck, and Oikawa shoved him off. “Don’t you care about your dear friend’s problems?”

“I don’t have any friends.” Semi scowled down at the pair of them, then moved to sit against the opposite wall, arms resting across his bent knees.

Tendou hummed. “Do you believe him, Oikawa-kun?”

Oikawa didn’t. It was obvious that Semi was close to his cellblock, whether he wanted to admit it or not, but he wasn’t about to say that. He already had enough enemies, and he’d added Iwaizumi to that list the night before.

“You know what your problem is, Oikawa-kun?” said Tendou, singsong. “You have too much pride. You don’t always act like it, but I see it. That was the worst attempt at an apology that I’ve ever seen.”

“Who says I was apologizing?” snapped Oikawa. 

Tendou poked at Oikawa’s cheek, and Oikawa slapped him away. “What were you trying to talk to Iwaizumi about, then?”

“None of your business.”

“The two of you have been stuck together like magnets for the past month.” Tendou prodded his forefingers together to illustrate. “Except for today. You ate breakfast alone, you didn’t get invited to your block’s little ball game, and you tried to follow Iwaizumi through the hallway like a lost puppy. Obviously there’s trouble in paradise.”

Oikawa’s eyes went narrow. “Don’t you have something better to do than spy on me?”

Tendou shrugged. “Not really. Prison is boring.

Oikawa sometimes wished it was a little more boring. He would have preferred fewer confrontations. 

“You need to be humble, Oikawa-kun,” said Tendou. “Act like you’re actually sorry instead of copping an attitude. That’s no way to apologize.”

“I never said I was apologizing. You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know you were trashed last night,” said Tendou, grinning. “Right, Semi-Semi?”

Semi almost smiled back, a half-twitch of his mouth. “Yeah. You’re less annoying when you’re drunk.”

“Fuck you,” grumbled Oikawa. “You were both drunk, too.”

“Maybe so.” Tendou stretched out his legs. They were so long that they nearly reached Semi’s feet across the hallway. “You seem like an emotional sort of drunk, though. Like maybe you’d be stupid enough to go back to your cozy little cell and say something you regret.”

Dread trickled down the back of Oikawa’s neck. There was no way Tendou knew anything about it. He was just guessing. It was a terrifyingly accurate guess, but a guess all the same. As long as Oikawa didn’t confirm it, there was no way for Tendou to be sure.

Semi laughed, but it wasn’t the same alcohol-induced laugh from the night before. This one was hoarse, hateful. “Told you he wanted to fuck Iwaizumi. It’s so obvious.”

Tendou cackled, and Oikawa caught fire.

“I don’t- that’s not-”

“Your face!” said Tendou, loudly enough to echo down the hallway. “Look at his face, Semi-Semi!” He fell back, still laughing, and raised his hands to frame Oikawa in his outstretched fingers. “Blushing like a virgin!”

Oikawa pushed himself upright. He stumbled, but regained his balance stormed down the hallway, not looking at either of them. He couldn’t decide if he was more angry or embarrassed.

“Oikawa-kun, wait!” Tendou scrambled after him, and Oikawa walked faster. 

Before he took the corner at the end of the hall, Tendou seized his arm and yanked him around. Oikawa shoved him away, and immediately withdrew to clutch at his side. “Fuck off, Tendou.”

“C’mon, we’re just playing!” He looked back, as if seeking support, but Semi hadn’t moved. He was still in the floor, watching the pair of them with a raised brow. “We don’t care who you want to fuck. You could do worse. Iwaizumi isn’t hard on the eyes, right, Semi-Semi?”

Semi’s lip curled. “That’s disgusting.”

“Semi used to have a thing for him,” said Tendou, leaning close to whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“I can fucking hear you, idiot,” snapped Semi.

“He’s a tough catch, though,” said Tendou, his voice returning to normal volume. “Iwaizumi, I mean. He doesn’t fuck around with the other inmates. You see, most of the time when a handsome young man like yourself pursues a partner, it’s not because you like them.” Tendou tried to pat Oikawa’s face, but he ducked away. “It’s because they’re strong and you want to save your pretty face.”

Oikawa frowned. That sounded a lot like what Iwaizumi had said the night before, thinking Oikawa was flirting for his own personal gain. 

“It’s rare that pretty boys settle down for love.” Tendou sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Here we have an exception. Right, Semi-Semi?”

“I only hang out with you because you’re creepy as fuck,” said Semi, scowling at the wall. “No one fucks with you. It’s all strategic.”

“Sure it is,” said Tendou with a grin. He turned back to Oikawa. “Iwaizumi doesn’t buy into that sort of thing in his block. Block One isn’t like that, either. Ushijima has other reasons for extending his protection, different ones. You could find out about those firsthand, if you come back to our block. You’ll have to make some changes to officially be one of us, but it’s nothing that’ll hurt you, I promise. We’ll welcome you with open arms.”

For the first time since Ushijima’s offer, Oikawa genuinely considered it. It might be safer for him, in light of recent events. After their misunderstanding, Iwaizumi might revert back to the man Oikawa had met during his first night in Block Two. Oikawa didn’t think he could live with that angry, scornful version of Iwaizumi. Not after Oikawa had gotten a peek at what sort of person existed beneath all that.

“Or,” said Tendou slowly, after giving Oikawa a moment to process, “you could put away all that stupid pride and apologize like you mean it. Iwaizumi is a reasonable man, and he doesn’t like conflict. He wouldn’t turn down a chance to resolve it, I think. Given the right circumstances.” Tendou patted Oikawa’s head like he was a child, and Oikawa didn’t even pull away. He couldn’t, not with his mind spinning full of Tendou’s advice.

“Can we go now?” asked Semi. “This isn’t our problem.”

“I told you already, Semi-Semi. We’re friends now. Of course it’s our problem.” He turned away from Oikawa and sauntered down the hallway. Semi rose to walk with him, not protesting when Tendou’s arm fell across his shoulders. Tendou raised a hand without looking back, waggling his fingers in a wave. “Bye-bye, Oikawa-kun. Give me a call if you want our open spot. Reon is the best cellmate a man could have. You’d be lucky to live with him.”

He and Semi disappeared around the corner, and Oikawa was left staring blankly after them. He was in the hallway alone, and he knew he should move, but he was still so lost in his own head that he couldn’t think too hard about his safety. 

Tendou was a lunatic. No one could deny that.

Regardless, Oikawa thought he was right, just this once.

He stood there for a few more dragging minutes, long enough that a few other inmates filtered inside from the yard. One of them was Kozume, and he paused at the mouth of the hallway to give Oikawa a long, calculating look. 

Oikawa took that as his cue to leave. 

He slipped down the opposite end of the hallway, circling back toward his side of the prison. Maybe Iwaizumi would be back in their shared cell, or maybe he was gone already, avoiding Oikawa as expertly as he’d done for the first half of the day. Either way, Oikawa wasn’t going to stop until he found him. 

Tendou was right, as terrible as that sounded. Tendou was right, and Oikawa needed to talk to Iwaizumi now. If Iwaizumi wanted nothing to do with him, Oikawa would transfer to Block One and make the best of it, but before that, he was at least going to try.

  
  
  
  
  
Iwaizumi wasn’t in Block Two. He wasn’t in the bathroom either, or the gym. Oikawa went to the yard, but he hadn’t gone back there, either. There was nowhere else to look, and Oikawa wasn’t sure what to do.

He sat in his cell until dinner time, flipping through the pages of his borrowed book without reading it, putting his glasses on and taking them off again. He was surprised Iwaizumi hadn’t taken them back, or stomped on them. 

Oikawa went to the cafeteria as soon as the meal began, but Iwaizumi had still beaten him there. He’d just finished his food as Oikawa walked through the door. If he’d been a second later, he would have missed Iwaizumi entirely.

Maybe Iwaizumi saw him as he passed by, or maybe he was so resolved to ignore Oikawa that he didn’t notice him at all. Either way, he exited into the hall without a single glance. Oikawa abandoned his walk toward the dinner line and spun on his heel to follow.

He caught up with Iwaizumi just outside the cafeteria. The halls were crowded with inmates floating in to get dinner. It was the busiest time of day, and the worst time for Oikawa to initiate this conversation.

But unless he wanted to wait for lights out - and he did not, because everyone in their cellblock could overhear - this was his only chance.

“Iwaizumi!” He called out loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the herd, slipping through a few groups of inmates to get closer.

Iwaizumi didn’t turn. He didn’t even slow.

“Iwaizumi, wait!” Oikawa bounded past a pair of Block Four inmates and finally drew even with him. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Well I have a lot to say to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“Iwaizumi, just-”

“You heard me. Get out of my face.”

Oikawa scuffed to a stop. Iwaizumi’s tone left no room for argument. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

He looked around at the crowd of people, some of them watching the pair of them with passing interest, most ignoring them altogether. Food was more important to them than whatever drama was taking place in Block Two.

Oikawa thought of what Tendou had said, about his pride. He wasn’t wrong. Oikawa was a proud man, and he couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t embezzled millions of yen because he needed the money. It had never been about that. 

He’d thought he was smart enough to do it without getting caught, and he’d wanted to prove it. 

That hadn’t turned out as planned. His pride hadn’t done him many favors lately.

He exhaled, braced himself, and rushed after Iwaizumi again. His ribs burned, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except for patching things up with Iwaizumi. Prison was his life now, whether he liked it or not. He couldn’t let one stupid mistake ruin whatever scraps of life he still had.

Oikawa overtook him halfway down the hall. He darted in front of Iwaizumi, blocked his path, and dipped into a deep bow. He kept his head down, even when an embarrassed heat rose to burn the back of his neck.

“Please, Iwaizumi-san.” Oikawa didn’t look up, didn’t check to see if the other inmates were staring. It didn’t matter. “I need to speak with you.”

He was met by a startled silence, but he didn’t look up to check Iwaizumi’s reaction. He stayed down, and watched from the corner of his eye as multiple pairs of feet shuffled past. The moment dragged on, long enough that Oikawa thought Iwaizumi would simply turn around and walk off.

Finally Iwaizumi spoke, voice gruff. “Talk, then. Make it quick.”

Oikawa rose, relief soaking him to the core. He glanced around and discovered that he’d indeed become the target of their fellow inmates’ scrutiny. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Iwaizumi huffed, clearly annoyed, but turned and led Oikawa into a more deserted hallway. Oikawa didn’t know where it led, but he wasn’t concerned. It was out of the way, the babble of the cafeteria distant, and that was all that Oikawa cared about. He didn’t want an audience for this.

Iwaizumi propped himself against the wall and folded his arms. He wasn’t looking at Oikawa. “Talk.”

“I didn’t mean it the way you thought I meant it,” said Oikawa immediately.

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

Oikawa took a breath, sifted through the jumble of his thoughts, and tried again. “I was drunk last night.”

“No shit.”

“I just… I never would’ve done that if I’d been sober.”

“Done what?”

Oikawa shifted where he stood, eyes sliding to the side. Iwaizumi knew what he meant. He must have. He just wanted Oikawa to say it out loud, to embarrass himself. Normally he would have refused, but Oikawa needed to fix things with Iwaizumi, for multiple reasons. As Tendou had said, he couldn’t let his pride get in the way.

“I wouldn’t have… come onto you,” said Oikawa, his face getting warmer as he spoke. “The way I did. It was stupid.” He paused to see if Iwaizumi would say anything, but when he remained quiet, Oikawa continued. “I didn’t mean it the way you thought. I wasn’t trying to get special treatment. I didn’t realize that’s how it would sound. I wasn’t just trying to thank you for watching out for me either, although I am grateful for that.” 

“How did you mean it, then?” Iwaizumi’s face had turned to stone again, his eyes flecks of steel. 

Oikawa had been desperate to talk to him, but he did not want to have this conversation. Maybe leaving things alone would have been easier. It was possible that Iwaizumi was about to hate him even more.

“I, umm… I meant it the same way anyone else would mean it.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to directly look at Iwaizumi. “Anyone on the outside, anyway. Obviously things translate a little differently in here.”

Iwaizumi continued to stare at him. Oikawa wasn’t looking, but he felt it. “I don’t understand.”

Oikawa released a breath. He’d been determined to tell the truth, but in the wake of this awkwardness, the resolve left him. “Forget about it. Just know I wasn’t trying to take advantage of your hospitality, okay? I have somewhere to be, if you’ll excuse me-”

Iwaizumi seized Oikawa by the back of his shirt and yanked him around. “I know you don’t have anywhere to be, you idiot. Look at me.”

Oikawa didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to. This could turn out badly. 

He braced himself and dragged his eyes upward, meeting Iwaizumi’s sharp stare with a wince. 

Iwaizumi studied him, eyes narrow, focus unwavering. After what felt like an eternity, he said, “Are you saying you like me or something?”

Oikawa felt his face go up in flames. He was a grown man, a _felon_. He should be immune to something as childish as blushing, yet he couldn’t make it stop. “I just, uh… Well, it… I… Okay, yeah, that’s the message I was trying to get across.”

Iwaizumi’s brows rose, slowly. 

“I was drunk,” Oikawa said again, defensive. “I didn’t mean to do it, okay? I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things weird. I wasn’t thinking about how you might take it. I wasn’t thinking at all. It just… happened. Forget about it. Let’s pretend I never said anything and-” 

Iwaizumi gripped the front of Oikawa’s shirt and pushed him into the wall, more gently than he’d done the night before. He stepped close, caging Oikawa in with his body, his breath warm against Oikawa’s face. 

Oikawa’s heart stuttered as Iwaizumi leaned in, tracing callused fingers across Oikawa’s cheekbone. He was so close that he tasted Iwaizumi’s breath on his inhales, so close that Oikawa felt the shared body heat between them. Iwaizumi moved even closer, and Oikawa’s eyes fell closed, his breath catching in anticipation. 

“Oh my god.” Suddenly Iwaizumi’s warmth was gone. He’d taken a step back to stare at Oikawa, dumbfounded. “You’re fucking serious. You really are into me.” 

Oikawa’s heart was stuck somewhere in his throat, confusion leaving him dizzy. “What the fuck was that?” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Did you just _test_ me?” asked Oikawa, his voice rising higher than he would have liked. 

“Usually guys don’t get desperate enough to switch teams until they’ve been here for at least a year,” said Iwaizumi, ignoring him. “You didn’t waste any fucking time.” 

“I’m not- I’ve never been on another team,” snapped Oikawa. “I don’t know what you’re talking about." 

“What, you’re saying you’ve always had a thing for guys?" 

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Oikawa forced the declaration through his own embarrassment. “You think I just decided to be gay when I got booked in?" 

“That’s how it works. Gay for the stay. Just look at your little friend Tendou. He’d never taken a dick until he got locked up in here.” 

“That is not something I needed to know.” Oikawa pressed his hands over his face. His bruises ached from the contact, but he embraced it. It was easier to focus on the pain than to think about Tendou’s sexual preferences; or worse, what Iwaizumi was going to say next. 

But he didn’t say anything, and that was even more unbearable. 

Finally Oikawa peeled his hands away and looked at Iwaizumi, who appeared more contemplative than repulsed. 

“It’s really not because you want my protection. Or just because it’s in your best interest,” said Iwaizumi. It didn’t sound like a question, but Oikawa felt he should answer anyway. 

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t thinking about that. I never have. I just... “ His eyes skated to the side. “I just wanted to. Not to gain anything. I swear.” 

“Is it because I’m convenient?” asked Iwaizumi. He didn’t sound angry, which was a good start. “We’re cellmates, and I’m the one who stepped up to help you when you got here. When I’m gone you’ll latch onto someone else instead and do the same thing.” 

“No, that’s not… that’s not it.” Oikawa had thought he’d surpassed the limits of his embarrassment. He’d been wrong. “It has nothing to do with any of that. Even if we weren’t in here, if we’d met on the outside, I’d still… Look, I really don’t want to talk about this, Iwaizumi. Please forget about it.” 

Oikawa turned to leave the hallway, but Iwaizumi’s low voice stopped him. 

“Right. Like I could just forget." 

Oikawa didn’t know what else to say. He’d already said more than he’d meant to. He’d apologized. He didn’t know what Iwaizumi wanted. 

“Sorry for jumping your shit last night,” said Iwaizumi. His voice was closer. “I thought you were just being a fucking dick. I didn’t know you had a crush on me.” 

Oikawa spun toward him, sputtering over his words, and realized Iwaizumi was smiling. It wasn’t a big smile, like Tendou’s. It was a simple curl of his mouth, paired with a flash of humor in dark eyes. He patted Oikawa’s shoulder as he walked past. “Come on. You’re going to miss dinner." 

Oikawa’s face remained hot as he obediently followed Iwaizumi back to the cafeteria. 


	8. Chapter 8

Things went back to normal between them. At least, as normal as anything could be trapped inside the prison walls.

“Your form is still shit,” said Iwaizumi, folding his arms as Oikawa struggled to complete a set of pull-ups. “Keep your back straight.”

“It is straight,” said Oikawa through his teeth. His arms were quivering, but Iwaizumi had done twice as many pull-ups with minimal effort, and he wasn’t about to lose that badly. He heaved himself up again. 

“It sinks in when you get tired,” said Iwaizumi. “And you’re using your legs to swing yourself up. Fuckin’ lazy.”

He was using his legs because his ribs still hurt when he moved the wrong way. But if he said that, Iwaizumi would claim he was making excuses. He was lucky he was even mobile; a week ago, he’d been convinced they were broken.

Regardless of the healing injury, Oikawa couldn’t have spared the extra breath to speak, even if he’d had a valid argument. He dropped down and slowly hefted himself back up again, tired muscles screaming, ribs aching.

When a hand pressed into Oikawa’s lower back, he almost fell. 

“Stop it,” said Iwaizumi, suddenly closer. “If you’re so fucking worn out that you can’t keep your form then you need to stop. You’ll end up hurting yourself.”

“I didn’t know you were a certified personal trainer.”

“I’m not,” said Iwaizumi. “I’m just not an idiot.” He looked up at Oikawa, his hand lingering. Oikawa’s heart pattered a little too quickly, and something must have shown on his face because Iwaizumi’s mouth curved into that little smirk. “Something bothering you?” 

“No.” Oikawa let his grip go limp and plopped to the floor. “Nothing at all. I’m great.” He turned away to wipe the sweat off of his face, but he still felt Iwaizumi’s knowing grin behind him.

A week had gone by since their talk. Since then, Iwaizumi had started doing things like this; guarding Oikawa a little too closely during their basketball games, trailing a hand over Oikawa’s shoulders when he walked behind him at the lunch table, bumping their elbows together when they walked beside each other in the hallway. He always wore that smirk when he did it, and it had taken Oikawa a few days too long to realize Iwaizumi was teasing him.

It was frustrating, but it was much better than Oikawa had expected. He’d thought Iwaizumi would mock him after he’d been coerced into his pathetic excuse for a confession. He’d expected the whole cellblock to get in on it, to ridicule Oikawa together.

To his knowledge Iwaizumi had kept his mouth shut, and when he made these small gestures or subtle comments, they were never in a mean way. They were always softened by that half-smile, the one that Oikawa now saw in his dreams.

Oikawa should have been embarrassed by that sort of attention, but he was just pleased that Iwaizumi was still speaking to him.

“You’re improving.” Iwaizumi’s voice returned to normal, the teasing inflection gone. He draped a towel around the back of his neck. “You’re a lot stronger than you were when you first got here.”

“Because I’d been in jail for six months before this, going through the system,” said Oikawa. He gestured at the handful of workout equipment, most of it in some degree of disrepair. “They don’t have stuff like this in jail.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I kept in shape when I was in jail. You don’t need anything to do push ups.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and tugged his uniform shirt back on. “Not everyone has your level of dedication. I was too busy being depressed that I was about to go to prison.”

“You only got two years,” said Iwaizumi. He nudged Oikawa as he walked by. “Stop whining.”

Oikawa started to argue, but realized that would sound even more like whining. He kept his mouth shut instead. 

“I guess to someone like you that’s a long time,” said Iwaizumi as they wandered down the hallway.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you lived your whole life out of here. It sucked when I got sentenced, but I was still a kid. I didn’t understand what ten years in this shithole was going to feel like. I was too young to know how much time that really was.”

Oikawa slid a glance toward him. Iwaizumi wasn’t bitter about it the way Oikawa would have been. It seemed he’d made peace with himself a long time ago.

He couldn’t help but look at that tattoo on Iwaizumi’s face, right beneath his eye. Oikawa caught himself thinking about it more often than he should. He knew the symbology, and he could almost guess what Iwaizumi’s crime had been, but he couldn’t reconcile that with what he knew about Iwaizumi as a person. He was a little rough around the edges, but that was a necessity of his environment. Oikawa thought that outside of here, he would be calmer, more easygoing. He would be a normal guy, and Oikawa wished that was how he’d met him. 

“See something you like?”

Oikawa turned his face forward again. He wasn’t even embarrassed. The past week had made him immune to these sorts of passing comments.

He rubbed the back of his hand over his warm face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Iwaizumi huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. They went to the Block Two bathroom, to wash themselves off as well as they could without a full shower. Oikawa pointedly kept his eyes averted, because if he even glanced in Iwaizumi’s direction, he knew it would be an invitation to a fresh round of teasing.

Oikawa didn’t mind it too much, though. At least Iwaizumi talked to him, and not in the short, cursory way that he’d done when Oikawa had first arrived. Iwaizumi spoke to him as if they were friends, and Oikawa found himself desperately hoping that they were.

“It’s almost lunch time,” said Iwaizumi. There was no clock on the wall, and he certainly didn’t have a watch. He’d been in prison so long that he’d learned the rhythm of the routine. Oikawa guessed that was why Iwaizumi never overslept. Following the exact same schedule every single day for the past ten years had rewired his brain.

Oikawa didn’t let himself think too hard about that. If he did, he would get depressed on Iwaizumi’s behalf.

Whatever Iwaizumi had done, he hadn’t deserved this. He couldn’t have.

“Want to go back to the cell?” asked Iwaizumi. He splashed a double handful of water over his face. It dripped down to the strong line of his jaw, cut trails down to his neck. “Instead of walking all the way to the yard.”

“Sure,” said Oikawa. He would have agreed to mostly anything Iwaizumi had said. 

They paced the familiar hallway back to Block Two. Nishinoya was in the guard station, spinning in lazy circles in his chair. Iwaizumi nodded to him, and Nishinoya nodded back, clearly trying to mimic him. 

Oikawa sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh. He folded his legs beneath him and reached for the newest book Iwaizumi had loaned him. Beside it were his glasses, and he hid a smile as he slipped them on. Iwaizumi stretched out on his own bed. It didn’t squeak as badly as Oikawa’s. He must have chosen the better one, since he was boss of the cellblock. 

Oikawa wondered if Iwaizumi had been the leader of the block since the minute he walked through the door, or if he’d had to work his way toward it. Maybe he’d usurped someone like Ushijima from the position. 

That didn’t seem like Iwaizumi, though. Oikawa didn’t think he would have made a scene about it unless it was absolutely necessary.

“What part are you on?” asked Iwaizumi, when they’d sat in silence for a while. 

Oikawa blinked, and realized he was supposed to be reading. “Oh. It’s uh…” He did a quick scan of the page. “The part at the playground. With the ghosts.”

“What?”

“The ghosts. The creepy little kids.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then maybe you didn’t read it right,” said Oikawa. He flipped back a couple of pages, for context. “It’s out at the maze. The main character on the playground and he-”

Oikawa’s bed squeaked, louder than usual. The flat mattress dipped beneath Iwaizumi’s weight as he dropped down beside Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi’s voice was close when he spoke, a low rumble that Oikawa almost felt. “Show me.”

Oikawa took a breath. Iwaizumi was doing this on purpose, to mess with him, the same way he’d done all week. He wouldn’t let himself be affected.

He shoved the book in front of Iwaizumi’s face, pointing out the paragraph that he’d been skimming over for the past ten minutes. “Here. I can read it to you, if your low IQ makes reading difficult.”

Iwaizumi raised a brow at him, ignoring the book altogether. “You know I literally read that book last week.”

“Apparently not, if you don’t remember the playground scene. It’s the scariest part.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t finished it yet.” He gripped Oikawa’s wrist and yanked it closer, brow creasing as he scanned the page. He didn’t let go as he read, and the heat of his hand was scorching.

It wasn’t just his hand. His shoulder was against Oikawa’s, and their knees bumped together. He radiated heat. 

Or maybe Oikawa was so hyperaware of him that he was imagining it.

“They’re not ghost kids,” said Iwaizumi, shoving the book back toward him. “You made that part up.” 

“I did not.”

“Look.” Iwaizumi leaned over him and pointed out a sentence that Oikawa couldn’t focus on. “You see anything about fucking ghosts?”

Oikawa tried, but despite the crisp clarity of his glasses, the print blurred together. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He’d proven his point, and Oikawa expected him to return to his side of the cell. It would be for the best. Oikawa wasn’t certain he’d even breathed since Iwaizumi had sat beside him.

Rather than leaving, Iwaizumi settled back against the wall, as if he was perfectly comfortable.

Oikawa pushed his glasses up on top of his head. They weren’t doing him any good now. He could have sworn he felt Iwaizumi watching him the way he always watched Iwaizumi, but he didn’t want to check.

Iwaizumi’s knee nudged Oikawa’s thigh. “Am I making you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?” said Oikawa. He shrugged off the question and hoped he sounded casual. “If you were going to murder me in my bed, you would’ve done it already.”

“That’s not what I mean and you fucking know it.”

Oikawa flipped the book closed and put it back on the end table. “No. I’m not nervous.”

“You look like it.”

“You’re misinterpreting.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Sure.”

Oikawa took his glasses off. He intended to put them on the table too, but Iwaizumi plucked them out of his hand. He leaned across Oikawa to do it himself, his side pressed against Oikawa’s chest.

Iwaizumi was doing this intentionally. He must have been.

When Iwaizumi pulled back, he didn’t go far. He braced a hand on the bed and leaned in, his face closer to Oikawa’s than was socially acceptable. He’d fallen into the habit of smirking at Oikawa’s expense, but he didn’t do that now. He didn’t have much expression at all as he asked, “Do you still have a crush on me?”

Oikawa gritted his teeth, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a jerk.”

“I’ve always been a jerk. Didn’t stop you before.”

Oikawa tried to lean away, but there was nowhere to go. “You’re worse now.”

“So you don’t like me at all,” said Iwaizumi. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and Oikawa’s eyes snapped down to follow it. “Not even a little bit.”

“Not even a little bit,” Oikawa echoed.

There was a beat of tension, during which Oikawa became very aware of Iwaizumi’s breath. He could hear it, that close. There was hardly any distance between them.

“You lying to me?” asked Iwaizumi.

If Oikawa had believed in his ability to lie convincingly under these circumstances, he would have done it. But Iwaizumi would have known, and Oikawa didn’t know what sort of twisted test he would resort to in order to judge Oikawa’s honesty.

Oikawa looked across the cell, at Iwaizumi’s empty bed. He answered in a low mumble. “Fuck off.”

Iwaizumi laughed under his breath. He stood, and Oikawa’s lungs became functional again. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Fine.” Oikawa rose, eager to get back into the general population. Iwaizumi only teased him when they were alone. It was considerate, in a way. Oikawa didn’t know how the other inmates would have reacted. 

“Hey, Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi turned so quickly that Oikawa barely stopped before running into him. They were close again, close enough that Oikawa could have traced every crease in Iwaizumi’s brow. Oikawa should have backed up, but he didn’t, and Iwaizumi didn’t move, either.

“I want to show you something,” said Iwaizumi. “After lunch.”

“What is it?”

Iwaizumi’s face didn’t change. “A secret.”

Oikawa frowned. “What kind of secret?”

“A fucking secret. You’ll see.”

Oikawa wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t argue. “Okay.”

Iwaizumi nodded, satisfied, and the two of them made their way to the cafeteria. Lunch was the same as usual. The food was a bit less disgusting than Oikawa expected, and he was grateful to whomever had offered them a bit of mercy when preparing it. 

Hanamaki still complained about it, but he had complaints about nearly everything. Oikawa had learned how to tune him out by now.

Tendou caught Oikawa’s eye from across the cafeteria and made an obnoxiously obvious gesture between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, followed by a thumbs-up and a grin. 

If he’d been within striking distance, Oikawa would have slammed his tray over Tendou’s head. He pointedly looked away and hoped Tendou didn’t make any further attempts to embarrass him. 

Iwaizumi had been handling that job with finesse. He didn’t need any help. 

The other members of Block Two trickled away from the table a few at a time. Oikawa stayed even after he was finished eating, because Iwaizumi hadn’t yet stood up. He seemed like he was waiting for the others to disperse first. Oikawa didn’t understand why, but he wasn’t about to ask.

When most of the cafeteria had cleared out, Iwaizumi finally stood. He carried his tray over to the drop-off, and Oikawa followed. 

“Come on,” said Iwaizumi, when they’d stepped into the hall.

Oikawa’s stomach twisted in anticipation. He knew Iwaizumi wouldn’t hurt him, but that didn’t erase all of his anxiety as Iwaizumi led him down an adjacent corridor. 

“Where are we going?” asked Oikawa, as they rounded the corner. 

“I told you already. I want to show you something.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Oikawa started to ask another question, and it would have probably elicited an exasperated response from Iwaizumi. He would never know, because an interruption came in the form of messy hair and a Cheshire grin.

“Well, well, look who it is.” Kuroo was leaning against the wall, a knee bent and a foot propped against the bricks. His arms were folded, and he looked more comfortable than anyone had a right to be in a garish orange prison uniform. Someone was with him, but it wasn’t Bokuto or Kozume. Oikawa didn’t think he’d ever noticed this person before, but the name on his uniform read “Akaashi”. 

Iwaizumi eyed the pair of them, then dismissed them and kept walking. Oikawa could almost feel the tension building in Iwaizumi’s stiff shoulders. 

“Rude as always, Iwaizumi,” said Kuroo. His attention shifted. “What about you, Oikawa-kun? Your face looks like it’s healed up. That was a nasty fall last week, huh?”

Oikawa glared at him. He almost said something. The words were on the tip of his tongue, bitter and sharp, until Iwaizumi squeezed his wrist. It was a silent command, and Oikawa swallowed his voice.

Kuroo hummed as they passed by, eyeing the two of them with a speculation that Oikawa didn’t appreciate. The stranger, Akaashi, was watching them too, and there was a sharp, dangerous intelligence in his eyes that made Oikawa wary.

“That’s interesting,” said Kuroo, his voice low as they rounded the corner.

Oikawa wanted to turn back, to see what he meant, but Iwaizumi tugged him along. 

“Don’t even acknowledge him,” said Iwaizumi. “He’s waiting for a reaction.”

“He’s just so fucking annoying.”

Iwaizumi’s half-smile returned. “Yeah, I know.” Once the two of them were out of sight, Iwaizumi glanced around, as if confirming they were alone. He cut down one more hallway and Oikawa realized it was where he and Iwaizumi had argued the week before, when Oikawa had been drunk.

He felt he should say something about that. Another apology, maybe, even though they’d made amends. But he forgot all about it when Iwaizumi led him to a door that Oikawa had seen one time too many.

He scuffed to a stop, abruptly enough that Iwaizumi gave him a curious look over his shoulder.

“That’s the broom closet,” said Oikawa. He looked around, half-expecting to find Tendou leering at him from a shadowed corner.

“No shit.” Iwaizumi pulled the door open, checked inside, and then gestured at Oikawa. “Come on.”

He didn’t move. “We’re not allowed to be in there.”

“I know that. No one fucking cares.”

“Why, though?”

“I told you, I need to show you something.”

“Something in there?”

“Obviously.”

Oikawa hesitated. He thought about the time Tendou had trapped him in there, about the shanks and the threats and the things Tendou could have done to him. He hadn’t, because Tendou had turned into a strange sort of tentative friend, but it had been a bad situation for Oikawa to find himself in.

“You have something better to do?” said Iwaizumi. “I know you have a busy fucking schedule.”

Oikawa reminded himself that this wasn’t Tendou, or anyone else. This was Iwaizumi. And despite what Oikawa had been told about trusting no one, he couldn’t help trusting Iwaizumi.

Oikawa stepped past him into the closet, and Iwaizumi followed him in and shut the door.

It was the same as Oikawa remembered it. The small room smelled of industrial cleaners and mop water. Several boxes of paper towels were stacked by the door, and that was all that Oikawa had time to notice before Iwaizumi backed him against the wall by the sink.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa raised his hands to push him away, but the only available spot for pushing was Iwaizumi’s chest, and he thought touching that would be a bad idea for a number of reasons. 

“What?” Iwaizumi braced one hand on the wall beside Oikawa’s shoulder. He was so close that Oikawa could practically feel the low vibration of his voice.

“What are you doing?”

He thought about the last time Iwaizumi had done this, the day Oikawa had apologized. Iwaizumi had only been messing with him then, testing him to see if Oikawa was really attracted to him or if he was just making up a story to excuse his behavior. 

This may have been a test, too. Oikawa told himself that, even as Iwaizumi leaned in, even as a strong hand curled around the back of his neck, even as Iwaizumi’s nose bumped against his. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Oikawa tasted the words against his lips. 

This didn’t feel like a test.

Iwaizumi must have sensed something; Oikawa’s uncertainty, or his muted panic. He leaned back and eyed Oikawa, brows tugging together. “If you tell me to back off, I will.”

He was serious. He would have left Oikawa alone, and probably wouldn’t have mentioned this situation ever again. Despite his crimes, whatever they may have been, and despite the reputation he’d built for himself in prison, Iwaizumi was a good man. Oikawa saw that through the façade of sharp words and poorly drawn tattoos. The understanding they’d suffered the week before was barely a smudge on Oikawa’s radar. Underneath everything else, no matter what he’d done, Iwaizumi was a good man.

He was good, and Oikawa wanted him _badly_.

“Don’t.” Oikawa gripped double handfuls of Iwaizumi’s shirt, keeping him close. “Don’t back off.”

Iwaizumi smiled, just barely, before pressing close to kiss him.

This definitely wasn’t a test, and Iwaizumi wasn’t just teasing.

Iwaizumi’s mouth was rough, almost demanding. He kissed Oikawa hard, pushing him back against the wall, pinching his bottom lip between blunt teeth. His hand traveled to Oikawa’s hair and nested there, fingers curling into a firm grip.

Oikawa forgot how to breathe. He forgot about everything that wasn’t Iwaizumi; the heat of him, the taste of his tongue when it pushed into Oikawa’s mouth, the rough hand in his hair and then at his waist, tugging down the edge of his pants to grip a bare hip.

Iwaizumi broke away from him and Oikawa sucked in breath that burned his lungs. 

“Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi grazed his lips along Oikawa’s jaw, descended to mouth at the side of his neck. 

Oikawa tilted his head back, his hands still caught in the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” He spoke the words against Oikawa’s skin. “I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

Oikawa felt he should say more. Questions buzzed like hornets in his skull, but Iwaizumi’s teeth grazed over his collarbone and he found himself incapable of speech. 

When Iwaizumi found his way back to Oikawa’s mouth, Oikawa finally made himself move. He wrapped an arm around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling him closer, crushing them together in a way that was slightly painful but wholly satisfying. He slipped beneath the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt and felt upward to his chest, his palm smoothing over solid muscle. Iwaizumi growled into his mouth and his hand dipped lower, feeling toward the front of Oikawa’s pants, searching in a way that sent heat spiraling in Oikawa’s gut.

“Iwaizumi.” The name was a gasp, lost in the heat of Iwaizumi’s mouth. “Iwaizumi, please.”

“Please what?” Iwaizumi nipped Oikawa’s lip between his teeth, smoothed it over with his tongue as his groping hand found its target. His fingers curled around Oikawa, and he arched into Iwaizumi, desperate. “Tell me what you want, Oikawa.”

“Tooru,” said Oikawa. It fell between his lips before he could stop it, before he could realize what a bad idea it was. “My name’s Tooru.”

Iwaizumi hesitated, but not for long. He breathed into Oikawa’s ear, his words a low rumble. “Tell me what you want, _Tooru_.”

Liquid heat dripped down Oikawa’s spine, pooling beneath Iwaizumi’s roaming fingers. “You. I want you.”

Iwaizumi gave him one long, smooth stroke. “Good answer.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth was back on Oikawa’s, demanding, devouring. Oikawa parted his lips and let Iwaizumi take what he wanted. Iwaizumi’s palm was rough as he pumped Oikawa, his grip firm, thumb dragging over the head of his cock in a way that made Oikawa’s toes curl.

Oikawa’s moan was muffled by Iwaizumi’s mouth, met with a sharp bite to his bottom lip that made him twitch in Iwaizumi’s hand.

“Iwaizumi.” The name was low, dragging, almost a moan in itself.

Iwaizumi pulled back, just a little, his hand going still. A second passed, then two, before he said, quietly, “Hajime.”

Even through Oikawa’s desperate haze, he knew the importance of what Iwaizumi had just offered him.

“Hajime,” he whispered. He pressed a hand against the side of Iwaizumi’s face, pulling him close again. “Please, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi’s shiver was subtle, but Oikawa felt it. He had no time to think on it before Iwaizumi was again touching him, this time with purpose, his wrist moving with quick strokes that left Oikawa weak.

He tried to hold out, but it was in vain. It had been too long since anyone had touched him. Even if that hadn’t been a problem, the knowledge that it was _Iwaizumi_ touching him, kissing him, would have done him in.

Oikawa came with a moan that sounded vaguely like _Hajime_. He threw his head back as the buzz of pleasure swept through him, and Iwaizumi’s lips moved to his throat. It was overwhelming, and when he drifted back to himself, it took all of his energy not to slump to the floor.

“I’ve been wondering if I could make you come in your pants like a high schooler,” said Iwaizumi. He grinned, a real one, and it was breathtaking. “Turns out I can.”

Oikawa wanted to tell him to shut up, but couldn’t piece together the words. 

Iwaizumi wiped his hand on the inside of Oikawa’s pants. They were already a mess, so he couldn’t even be annoyed. Iwaizumi stepped back, but Oikawa caught his sleeve. 

“Wait.”

“For what?”

Oikawa peeled himself away from the wall, seized the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt, and shoved him into the vacant space. Iwaizumi hit the wall with a huff. His scowl suggested he was about to protest, but whatever words he’d planned to say dissolved into silence when Oikawa dropped to his knees. He curled his fingers around the waistband of Iwaizumi’s pants and looked up at him. “Can I?”

Iwaizumi’s fingers threaded into Oikawa’s hair, curling into a firm grip. “Yeah. Fuck.”

Oikawa smiled, pleased with himself, as he slowly eased down Iwaizumi’s pants. He revealed a flash of sharp hipbones and the first hint of dark hair.

Then the closet door swung open.

Oikawa snapped his head around to find Captain Sawamura, his broad shoulders taking up the entire doorway. He was not happy.

“What the fuck is going on here?”


	9. Chapter 9

Oikawa staggered to his feet and as far away from Iwaizumi as the cramped closet would allow. It wasn’t far, and it was a wasted effort. It was too late. Anyone would have known exactly what they were doing.

“Captain Sawamura,” said Oikawa. He looked to Iwaizumi, who appeared less panicked than Oikawa, and then back to the Captain, who stood with his thick arms folded across his chest. “It’s not what it looks like.”

It was a feeble excuse, and all of them knew it.

“You know,” said Sawamura, “when you got booked in, I didn’t think you would be trouble.” His attention slid to the side. “And this is the last rule I thought I’d catch you breaking, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi’s face didn’t change, but his jaw clenched tight.

Dread filled the pit in Oikawa’s stomach. He’d never thought he would get any points during his stay here, and he’d certainly never thought they would be for sexual conduct with a fellow inmate. This would go on his record. If anyone ever pulled his file, they would know that he’d been messing around with his cellmate in a broom closet. 

It was humiliating, but a moment later he realized something worse.

This would go on Iwaizumi’s record, too. He would have new points just in time for his parole hearing.

“He didn’t break any rules,” Oikawa blurted, reclaiming Sawamura’s attention. 

Sawamura raised a brow at him. “I’m not stupid, Oikawa. Want to try that again?”

“No, I’m serious.” He tossed a fleeting look at Iwaizumi. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I tricked him into coming in here with me. He tried to leave but I shoved him up against the wall and I was, uh… I was trying to force him into… into doing stuff.”

Sawamura did not seem convinced, and Oikawa couldn’t blame him. It was a weak story at best.

“He said no,” said Oikawa, and he only felt that he was digging a deeper hole for himself. “He told me to back off but I didn’t listen. This is my fault, captain. I’ll take the points for it and I swear it won’t happen again.”

Iwaizumi scowled at him. “Oikawa, shut up.”

“No, _you_ shut up,” Oikawa snapped back. 

“I’ve done this job for years,” said Sawamura. “Do you really think I’m going to go for that story?”

“Yes,” said Oikawa, “because it’s true.” 

Sawamura shook his head, but before he could argue, Oikawa continued.

“It’s true, and that’s what I’ll tell the board, when Iwaizumi appeals whatever points you give him.” Oikawa adjusted the hem of his shirt, painfully aware of the mess in his pants. “I’ll tell them everything was my fault and I forced him into it, and that I told you exactly what happened and you still gave him points he didn’t deserve. Maybe they’ll listen to me and maybe they won’t, but it’s going to be a lot of unnecessary hassle for everyone. It would be easier for you to believe me.”

Sawamura studied him long enough that Oikawa felt he’d be permanently pinned in place by the force of his stare. Eventually, after a long, tense silence, the captain said, “Iwaizumi, get back to your block. If you feel threatened by your cellmate, tell one of the guards and we’ll reassign you.”

Iwaizumi looked between the two of them, uncertain. When he stepped toward the door, the look he gave Oikawa was unreadable.

Sawamura waited until he was gone before addressing Oikawa. “You’re full of shit. I know you’re full of shit.”

Oikawa swallowed thickly and waited.

Sawamura sighed. “I’m letting this go because of Iwaizumi, not you. I’ve never seen him touch another inmate, much less sneak off in a closet with anyone.”

“Like I said, I forced him into it.”

“Drop the act.” The edge in Sawamura’s voice was cutting. “I’d slap points on both of you if it wasn’t for his parole. I’m guessing that’s why you made up this stupid story, too.”

Oikawa said nothing.

“I try to be reasonable,” said Sawamura, “but when you idiots go off and do something like this, you make it hard for me. I want him to get out of here. I want all of you to get out of here, when it’s your time. I’m not here to make you miserable. I’m just doing my job.”

“I know.”

“If I catch the two of you in here again, you’re both spending a week in solitary. I don’t care what kind of bullshit story you come up with.”

“Right,” said Oikawa. “I will never come near this closet again. I promise.” He’d made that promise once before to Kageyama, but he actually meant it this time.

“Good.” Sawamura held the door open, and Oikawa took that as his cue to exit. He paced down the hallway, very aware of Sawamura following a short distance behind, and cut the corner toward his cellblock to find a familiar face waiting.

Kuroo leered at him, smug. Akaashi was still with him, and although his face was devoid of expression, Oikawa had a suspicion he was gloating, too.

Oikawa scuffed to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Iwaizumi had told him to ignore Kuroo. He’d told him no more than twenty minutes ago, and Oikawa knew he should keep his mouth shut.

It was harder than it sounded.

“Did you fucking snitch on us?” he said, more loudly than he should have.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Kuroo, grin unwavering. “What’s he talking about, ‘Kaashi?”

“I wouldn’t know, Kuroo-san.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” hissed Oikawa. His hands curled into fists and he could do nothing to stop them. “Trying to fuck up Iwaizumi’s parole.”

“Oh?” said Kuroo with feigned interest. “He’s supposed to be getting parole? I had no idea.”

Fury flared in Oikawa’s blood. He thought it would boil right through him. “Listen, asshole. You can come at me all you want, but the next time you do something to fuck with him I swear I’ll-”

A solid hand shoved him away from the confrontation and toward his cellblock. “Walk, Oikawa.” Sawamura’s tone was granite, leaving no room for argument. “One more word and I’ll change my mind about those points.”

“That’s right, Oikawa-kun,” said Kuroo. “Move along. Don’t start a fight you can’t handle.”

Sawamura turned on him. “Kuroo, if you don’t shut your damn mouth I’ll throw you in solitary for so long that you’ll be going gray by the time you see the light of day again.”

Kuroo held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I was just joking around. I didn’t mean anything by it, captain.”

Oikawa almost said something, but Sawamura gave him a firm shove between his shoulder blades. He sufficed by sending Kuroo a final scalding glance before complying.

Sawamura walked him all the way to the door of Block Two and waited with his arms folded as Oikawa went inside. He expected another scathing reprimand, but Sawamura departed without a word.

Oikawa slunk past the cells, keeping his head down until he reached the last one. Iwaizumi was sitting on his bed, but he stood when Oikawa entered.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” said Oikawa. “Sawamura let me off.”

“Why?”

“My dashing good looks, maybe.”

Iwaizumi stepped into his space and shook him, lightly. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know why. He just said not to do it again. He doesn’t want you to blow your chance at parole, but I don’t know why he took pity on me.”

Iwaizumi released a breath and slumped back onto the edge of his bed. “That was too fucking close.”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. He dropped onto his own bed. His pants were uncomfortable but he tried not to think about it.

A moment passed between them, then two. When Iwaizumi finally spoke, it wasn’t what Oikawa would have expected. “Sorry.”

Oikawa blinked up at him, startled. “What?”

“You heard me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Did you hear me complaining about it?”

Iwaizumi grinned. “Complaining isn’t the word I would use. Begging, maybe.”

Oikawa slapped a hand over his face. “Shut up.”

Iwaizumi laughed, low and deep. “Too bad we can’t do it again.”

Oikawa let his hand fall away, slowly. Iwaizumi had lounged back on his bed, arms propped behind his head. His profile was flawless; strong jawline, straight nose, creased forehead giving way to wild spikes of hair. 

Oikawa wanted him to get parole, but he didn’t want to lose him, either.

“What changed your mind?”

Iwaizumi rolled his head to the side to look at him. “What?”

“When I told you about… you know.” Oikawa glanced at the door of the cell. No one was around, but he dropped into a whisper anyway. “About _liking you_ , you didn’t seem interested.”

Iwaizumi stared at him. “I’ve been flirting with you for a solid week, dumbass.”

“I thought you were just fucking with me.”

“I was,” said Iwaizumi. “That’s what flirting is.”

Oikawa wasn’t completely sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Oh.”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart.” He huffed a breath as he sat up. 

“Is it just because…” Oikawa let the question trail off. It wasn’t something he should ask. It didn’t matter, not really.

Iwaizumi eyed him from across the cell. “What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

Iwaizumi pushed himself to his feet and took the three strides across to Oikawa’s side of the cell. He stood in front of him, arms crossed, expectantly imposing. “Tell me.”

Oikawa swallowed. “Is it just because I’m…” He glanced away. “Because I’m convenient? I already liked you, so it was easy for you to-”

Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s jaw, yanking his face up and cutting him short. “You’re a damn idiot.”

“I don’t-”

“Do you really think I’d risk fucking up my parole just because you’re easy?” He tilted Oikawa’s head back further. “Getting involved with anyone in here is asking for trouble. Some guys get by with it, but I’ve never been one of them. I’ve fucked around a time or two, sure. But only when I had nothing to lose. Never with someone in my Block.”

Oikawa stared up at him. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Iwaizumi’s hand lingered, then fell away from Oikawa’s jaw. He took a step back and folded his arms again, muscles flexing with the motion. He glanced away, toward the door of the cell. “I liked you already. That’s why I was so fucking mad, before. I thought you knew and you were trying to use it against me.”

If Oikawa hadn’t already felt guilty about the drunken incident, now it was twice as bad. “Iwaizumi, I would never-”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi kicked his shin, lightly. “Prison paranoia. I can’t turn it off.”

Oikawa smiled, a low swell of relief easing his tension. “You’ll have to learn, soon. You won’t be in prison much longer.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “We’ll see.” He gestured over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. “Let’s go out to the yard and kick Makki’s ass at cards.”

Oikawa grinned as he stood. “You asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m telling you to get your ass up and come outside.” He scuffed out of the cell, but paused in the doorway. “If I was asking you on a date, it would be better than the fucking yard.”

He slipped into the hall between the cells, and Oikawa spent a few long seconds composing himself before he followed.

  
  
  
  
  
Dinner that night was as repulsive as ever. The grace period provided by lunch had clearly worn off. Oikawa picked through his meal as Hanamaki discussed plans for a potential prison riot that they all knew he would never start. When Oikawa had taken all he could of the food and the drone of Hanamaki’s voice, he stood with his tray and took it to the drop-off by the door. He intended to go back to his cell and continue reading the book that Iwaizumi had loaned him.

Tendou had other plans.

“Look who it is,” he said, swaggering up to match Oikawa’s pace.

Oikawa glanced around, startled. He could have sworn he’d been alone in the hallway. “Where’d you come from?”

“The deepest circle of hell, according to some,” said Tendou. “I’m really from Miyagi though, thanks for asking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” Tendou bumped Oikawa with his shoulder. “I heard some rumors about you, Oikawa-kun. I must say I’m proud that you listened to my advice, but also disappointed that I wasn’t invited.”

Oikawa came to a dead stop. “What did you just say?”

“I think you heard me.” Tendou’s grin was wicked. “Sneaking off to the broom closet in the middle of the day like that. Bold move, Oikawa-kun.”

Oikawa’s stomach dropped. “How’d you know about that?”

“A little birdy told me,” said Tendou, singsong. 

“Who was it?” The question slipped through Oikawa’s teeth. He had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer.

“I’d rather not say, but I could be convinced. Let’s go to the broom closet and we’ll see what kind of information you drag out of me.” He winked, and Oikawa wanted to punch him. Whatever positive feelings he’d developed for Tendou were fading fast.

Oikawa shoved past him, stomping toward Block Two.

“You take everything too personally, Oikawa-kun. I’m only playing.” He bounded up beside Oikawa again. “It was Kuroo, of course. He’s been whispering it around. Not to me directly, but I overheard a couple of Block Four guys talking about it.”

Oikawa stopped. “He’s telling people about it?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” said Tendou. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head at Oikawa. “He’s mostly complaining that the two of you didn’t get in trouble when you got caught. Says it’s not fair Sawamura got you with your pants down and you’re still walking around, point-free.”

“My pants weren’t down.”

“It’s an expression, Oikawa-kun.” Tendou patted him on the shoulder. “How’d you manage that, anyway? Give me some tips. You have no idea how many points I’ve gotten from getting caught in that closet.”

“You said before you’d never been caught.”

Tendou hummed. “Oh, yeah. I guess I lied.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You don’t really think that.”

Oikawa sighed. That was true. Tendou wasn’t the worst, because that title was reserved for Kuroo.

“Next time you’re taking a trip to the closet, give me a call,” said Tendou. “Iwaizumi won’t be around forever. When he’s gone, you’ll have a gaping hole in your life, and Semi and I-”

“Shut the fuck up, Tendou.”

Tendou gave him that too-wide grin. He looked as if he was on the verge of saying something else, probably something that was equally as inappropriate, but their conversation was cut short. Iwaizumi approached, his scowl fixed on Tendou, and Oikawa was grateful for the interruption.

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san,” said Tendou brightly. “We were just talking about you. Just like everyone else in this prison, apparently.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Iwaizumi picked up on his meaning immediately. “Kuroo’s been talking?”

“He always does,” said Tendou.

Iwaizumi’s scowl darkened. “It’s the one thing he’s good at.” He checked over his shoulder to make sure the three of them were alone. “What’s he saying?”

“Nothing that isn’t true,” said Tendou with a shrug. “From what I gather, anyway. Oikawa-kun didn’t deny it.”

Oikawa started to protest, but Iwaizumi spoke over him.

“Anyone else talking shit?”

“Not that I’ve heard.” Tendou rolled his eyes upward, pretending to think. “I hear a lot of things, though. I could have missed it.”

“Well if you do hear it,” said Iwaizumi, “let me know.”

“I’ll think about it.”

That seemed to be good enough for Iwaizumi. He started toward the door of Block Two, but hesitated. “By the way, Tendou. Stop giving my guys that shitty hooch. We’re not getting in trouble for your contraband.”

“You say that like I forced it on someone,” said Tendou, hooded eyes straying to Oikawa. “From what I recall, he was right there in my cell asking for it. Jealous?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “No. I’m not. Come on, Oikawa.”

Oikawa followed him without looking back, even when Tendou’s cackling trailed after them.

“What’s going to happen?” asked Oikawa when they’d gotten back to their cell. “If everyone knows, I mean.”

“Nothing. You might get some stupid comments about it, but no one will do anything.” He flopped onto his bed with a sigh. “It’s not a big issue in here. People do what they have to do. Everyone just tries to keep it quiet, so the guards don’t find out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Kuroo is just pissed I didn’t catch trouble for it. He’ll whine about it for a while, but it won’t matter. Sawamura let us off. He won’t go back on that.”

Iwaizumi sounded sure, and that was all Oikawa needed for his own uncertainties to be soothed. If Iwaizumi said it would be fine, he believed it would be fine. Now that Oikawa thought about it, there didn’t seem to be much of a stigma surrounding the other inmates and their relationships. Tendou and Semi were anything but subtle, and no one gave them a second glance.

Iwaizumi reached overhead for the book on his end table and flipped it open to the folded page. Oikawa mimicked him, sliding on his glasses with a subtle smile.

“You don’t look horrible in those,” said Iwaizumi, not looking over at him.

Oikawa’s smile grew. “Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  
The evening passed without incident. Oikawa had become so familiar with the routine that he knew the exact second when the lights would go down. He reclined back in his bed and watched the ceiling, counting out minutes in the not-so-dark cell. Exactly half an hour after lights out, a guard came through and peeked into each cell, making sure the inmates were in compliance. It was Azumane. Oikawa wasn’t sure if he’d ever even heard the man speak. He tended to defer to whatever guard was on duty with him if there was a problem.

After Azumane checked their cell and paced back toward the front, Oikawa rolled onto his side and whispered, “Iwaizumi.”

There was no response.

Oikawa shifted closer to the edge of his bed and tried again. “ _Iwaizumi_.”

There was a shuffle of sheets and a low, “What?”

“You asleep?”

“How can I sleep if you won’t shut up?”

Oikawa pushed himself upright, socked feet easing onto the floor. He tiptoed over to Iwaizumi’s side silently, crouching by the edge of his bed. “I need to tell you something.”

Iwaizumi cracked open an eye to look at him. “It can’t wait until morning?”

“No, it’s important.”

Iwaizumi sighed, but didn’t complain. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes, and kicked his legs off the side of the bed. “Okay, what?”

Oikawa slipped between Iwaizumi’s knees, his own against the stone floor, and slid his hands onto Iwaizumi’s thighs. “I owe you from earlier. We got interrupted.”

Suddenly, Iwaizumi was wide awake. He stared at Oikawa, in the floor between his feet, and glanced at the cell door. “You sure?”

“The guards make a round every thirty minutes,” said Oikawa. He still spoke in a whisper, so low that it barely carried to Iwaizumi. “As long as we don’t make any noise, no one will know.”

“I know that.” He frowned. “You sure this is what you want?”

Oikawa looked up at him, taking in the constantly creased brow, the downward curve of his lips, the dark spark in his eyes. “Yeah,” said Oikawa. “This is what I want.”

He meant it as more than a simple statement, as more than an agreement to break the rules. Maybe Iwaizumi understood that, or maybe he didn’t. Oikawa had other priorities.

He tugged at the band of Iwaizumi’s pants, and Iwaizumi raised his hips off of the bed. Oikawa pulled them down to his ankles and leaned close, smoothing his palms from Iwaizumi’s knees, up to his thighs, and then further. 

“Make sure you keep quiet,” said Oikawa, grinning up at him. “Don’t want anyone to hear.”

“I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that.”

It was a challenge, one that Oikawa willingly accepted. 

Iwaizumi wasn’t hard, so it was easy for Oikawa to dip down and completely take him into his mouth. 

A hand pulled tight in Oikawa’s hair, but he didn’t mind. He worked his tongue around the sides of Iwaizumi’s length, slow and thorough until Iwaizumi swelled to hardness. He sucked as he pulled off, lapped at the tip, and peered up at Iwaizumi. His dark stare was fixed on Oikawa. His face hadn’t changed, but the way his cock twitched when Oikawa licked at it suggested he was enjoying himself. 

Oikawa ducked down again and nipped at Iwaizumi’s inner thigh, making him jolt. He nosed at his balls, sucked at one of them until Iwaizumi squirmed, and then descended on his cock again. Even at full hardness, Oikawa relaxed his jaw and took it to the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, taking Iwaizumi to the base each time, his hands gripping the sturdy thighs on either side of his head.

“ _Shit_.” 

The whisper was so low that Oikawa almost thought he’d imagined it. He tilted his head up and found Iwaizumi watching him, his lips parted, a furrow in his brow that was different from his usual scowl. Oikawa inched a hand up to thumb at Iwaizumi’s balls and Iwaizumi sucked in a breath. 

Oikawa reached up to the hand on his head, encouraging Iwaizumi to tighten his grip. He peered up at him with his mouth full of cock, a silent invitation.

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, as if bracing himself, and accepted.

He thrust his hips up, sinking deep into Oikawa’s mouth, holding him in place by his hair. Oikawa let his jaw go slack and took it, lax as Iwaizumi started up a rhythm. The head of his cock nudged the back of Oikawa’s throat, but Oikawa swallowed around it, breathing deeply. 

Oikawa realized he was hard, too. He pressed the heel of his hand against his cock and ignored it in favor of Iwaizumi.

“ _Fuck_ , Tooru.”

Oikawa shivered, and suddenly his hard-on was more difficult to ignore. He dipped a hand into the front of his pants and fisted his dick in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts.

Iwaizumi’s breath was growing heavy, ragged, but true to his word, he was quiet. Even when his grip grew tighter, even when he pulsed in Oikawa’s mouth, he didn’t make a sound. 

Oikawa released himself and latched onto Iwaizumi’s thighs again, shaking off his hand and sucking him with purpose. He set a furious pace, his mouth sliding up and down Iwaizumi’s cock with such force that the bedsprings squeaked beneath him. 

He hoped the other inmates in their block were already asleep.

Just when he thought Iwaizumi was about to come, when he thought a few more seconds would finish him, he pulled off and looked up with the head of Iwaizumi’s cock pressed against his lips.

“Are you going to come for me, Hajime?”

Finally a sound slipped from Iwaizumi’s mouth. It was the first syllable of a moan, quickly snuffed out when Iwaizumi slapped a hand over his face. Oikawa grinned up at him and sucked down his cock again, just in time for a spurt of come to spray into the back of his throat. 

Oikawa swallowed, staying on Iwaizumi’s cock until it gave a final spasm on his tongue. When he pulled off he sucked it clean, eyes flitting upward to watch Iwaizumi. 

They stared at each other, Oikawa smug, Iwaizumi stunned. Finally Iwaizumi said, quietly, “I didn’t expect you to be that good.”

Oikawa grinned. “I told you I liked men before I was in prison. This isn’t my first blowjob.”

“Obviously.”

Oikawa would have laughed, if there hadn’t been sleeping inmates a bare few feet from where they sat. He rose from his crouch, intending to return to his side of the cell, but Iwaizumi caught the edge of his shirt. 

“Hey.”

Oikawa turned back, and Iwaizumi and yanked him down into a kiss. Their mouths met with too much force, enough to sting, but Oikawa wasn’t thinking about that. His focus was on the way Iwaizumi kissed him, slow and deep, his tongue slipping inside Oikawa’s mouth. He must have tasted himself there, and he must not have minded.

When Iwaizumi released him, Oikawa stumbled a step back, dazed.

There was a distant sound of boots thumping against the floor, the guard approaching for his rounds. Oikawa nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get back to his bed. He slipped beneath the sheets just before Azumane appeared in the doorway, peering in at them before walking away.

Iwaizumi grinned at Oikawa from across the cell. “I’ll pretend to be asleep, if you want to take care of that.”

It took Oikawa a few seconds too long to realize Iwaizumi was referring to his hard-on. 

“You’re a jerk,” whispered Oikawa.

“Why do you like me then?”

Oikawa didn’t have an answer for that. Instead he rolled over, his back toward Iwaizumi. A low, whispery laugh came from across the cell, and even though it was at his expense, Oikawa couldn’t help but smile.

  
  
  
  
  
Despite the broom closet incident and the rumors that had circulated as a result, nothing bad sprang out of it. Everyone left them alone, Sawamura didn’t change his mind about punishing them, and the worst thing that Kuroo did for the next week was stare at the pair of them from a distance with a scheming look on his face.

He could stare all he wanted. As long as he didn’t speak to them, Oikawa could live with it.

Things were going fine. Oikawa thought about the broom closet every now and then, and what sorts of things he would like to do with Iwaizumi in there, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try it. He certainly wasn’t going to risk getting Iwaizumi in trouble by being selfish.

On a Monday, one week before Iwaizumi’s scheduled parole hearing, Block Two lined up outside their cells for roll call, as usual. 

Unlike every other day, the guard on duty didn’t come around to count them. Sawamura was there instead, and not just for roll call. 

“We’re having issues with the Block Two bathroom,” he said, after he’d confirmed they were all present. “The shower drains are clogged up. We have someone coming in to fix it, but it might take a few days. We’re not sure what’s wrong.”

Oikawa wasn’t worried. It didn’t seem like a big deal.

At least, until Sawamura kept talking.

“Until it’s repaired, you’ll be assigned to bathrooms in different blocks for your morning showers. You’ll still be on the same schedule, just in a different place. Listen up, I’ll tell you where you need to go.”

A flicker of unease made Oikawa glance at Iwaizumi, whose jaw had tightened.

“Matsukawa, Block One. Hanamaki, Block Three. Yahaba, Block Four.”

He continued down the row, beginning from the first cell and working his way down to the last one. Oikawa held his breath when they were reached.

“Iwaizumi, you’re in One, and Oikawa, in Three. You might have to be patient since there will be more inmates waiting to use the showers. Just cooperate for a few days, alright? We’re doing what we can.”

There was a low mumble of assent and Sawamura headed back to the door, his duty complete. The inmates started filtering out for breakfast, but Oikawa didn’t move.

Block Three. He’d been assigned to the bathroom in Block Three.

Block Three belonged to Kuroo.

“I think I’ll skip showering today,” said Oikawa. “Tomorrow, too. The rest of the week isn’t looking good, either.”

“No, you won’t,” said Iwaizumi. He gripped Oikawa’s shoulder and steered him toward the door. “You’ll shower like usual. We're not changing our routine because of them.”

“But Kuroo-”

“Won’t be a problem,” said Iwaizumi. “We’ll switch. I’ll go to Three and you’ll go to One. You’ll be fine there.”

Oikawa stopped walking. “No.”

“Oikawa-”

“No. We’re not switching. You’re not going anywhere that Kuroo is.”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” Iwaizumi nudged his shoulder again, but Oikawa didn’t budge. “He’s only been messing with you, remember? That’s how he wants to get to me. He’s not stupid enough to come at me head on. If you go he might try something, but if it’s me, he’ll keep his distance. Trust me.”

Oikawa wasn’t sure about that. He didn’t like the sound of it. 

“Really, Tooru.” Iwaizumi brushed a thumb over Oikawa’s cheekbone. “It’ll be fine.”

Oikawa sighed. “Okay.”

“Just watch out for Tendou,” said Iwaizumi, starting forward again. This time Oikawa went with him. “Don’t drop the soap.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, but couldn’t bite back a grin. “Fuck you.”

  
  
  
  
  
They had breakfast as usual, but when they dispersed for their showers, Oikawa found himself walking past the Block Two door alongside Matsukawa and Kindaichi, headed for Block One.

Oikawa wasn’t nervous, not really. He knew nothing bad would happen to him in Block One. 

Still, he couldn’t shake the dread that festered deep in his gut.

“I didn’t notice anything wrong with our showers yesterday,” said Matsukawa. His towel was slung over his shoulder, a bag of shower supplies identical to Oikawa’s dangling from his hand. “You guys?”

“No,” said Kindaichi. “They seemed fine.”

Oikawa mumbled an agreement. 

“Oh well.” Matsukawa shrugged as they passed through the doorway to the bathroom. “At least we don’t have to listen to Makki sing today.”

Kindaichi half-smiled, but he seemed uneasy, too. His discomfort was probably from a different source than Oikawa’s, though. He didn’t have any connections with the Block One guys. He was likely worried about having to mingle with them.

There was no need.

“Hey, our guests have arrived!” said Tendou, loudly enough to echo from the bathroom walls. “Welcome to The Palace Hotel, how can I be of service?” He gave a low, sweeping bow, and Oikawa was unsurprised to find that he was completely nude.

Tendou had no shame to speak of.

He also had so many tattoos that were usually hidden beneath his uniform that Oikawa was too surprised to be annoyed by his antics. 

“Some heated towels would be nice,” said Matsukawa, taking him in stride. “Is the onsen in a different room?”

“It’s in a special place,” said Tendou. “I’ll give you a private tour later.” He gave Matsukawa a quick wink, and Oikawa stepped past the pair of them toward the showers along the far wall. Kindaichi followed on his heels, probably grateful to get away from the living disaster that was Tendou.

Oikawa plopped his shower bag down on the edge of a sink. He fished around inside for his shampoo and slid a subtle glance back toward Tendou.

Iwaizumi had a lot of tattoos. That had been one of the first things Oikawa had observed about him. 

Tendou had just as many, but they were _different_.

Iwaizumi’s ink was piecemeal, a collection of designs and patterns that had no real cohesiveness. That had made sense after Oikawa discovered how long Iwaizumi had been in prison, because he must have acquired them all while he’d been on the inside. They were basic prison tattoos, but Tendou’s were not.

His back was sketched in full color, from the tops of his shoulders down to his lower back. The face of a fierce Oni leered from a sea of black waves, the color slightly faded from years of wear, but still vibrant enough to suggest it was a professional job. Oikawa hadn’t had time to notice the state of the tattoos on his chest, but he guessed they were similar.

Oikawa stripped off his shirt, folded it on the sink, and made sure Tendou was still distracted with Matsukawa before kicking off his pants. He grabbed his towel and his toiletries and headed to the nearest vacant shower stall. The Block One bathroom was an exact replica of Block Two’s. The showerheads were spaced along the wall with no barriers in between. It was only when Oikawa turned the water on and dipped his head beneath that he realized the identity of his neighbor.

“Oikawa. It is good to see you.”

Oikawa went still, water dripping into his eyes. He tossed his head back and rubbed the heels of his hands over his face, clearing his vision. 

Ushijima was rubbing soap into his chest. He’d turned his head to greet Oikawa. 

“Ushijima.” Oikawa squeezed out a palmful of shampoo. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. It is unfortunate about your bathroom facilities. You are welcome here until it gets repaired.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Oikawa lathered up his hair, hoping Ushijima was finished with the conversation.

He wasn’t.

“We still haven’t received a new inmate to take Goshiki’s place,” he said. “If you’ve changed your mind, my offer is still available.”

“No thanks.” The refusal was a little sharper than Oikawa had intended. “I’m okay in Two.”

Ushijima watched him for another minute, long enough to make Oikawa borderline uncomfortable. “It was only a suggestion. You seemed to like it here when you were with Tendou a couple of weeks ago.” Finally he turned back to his own shower to rinse off, allowing Oikawa to breathe freely again.

Oikawa ducked his head into the water, rinsing out the shampoo. When it was cleared away from his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing to the side toward Ushijima.

He hadn’t let himself look when they’d been speaking, but now he saw that Ushijima wore an impressive collection of tattoos, too. They covered him from chest to waist, hips to knees. The style was the same as Tendou’s, though there wasn’t an Oni to be seen. 

Ushijima turned to the side, giving Oikawa a full view of his chest. One half was covered in the vivid scales of a dragon, its tail wrapping around Ushijima’s ribs, its mouth gaping open to bare wicked teeth. The other side was a masked samurai wielding a sword, facing the dragon as if in the midst of battle. 

Oikawa forced himself to look away, rinsing his hair once more, staying under the spray so long that he gasped for breath when he finally emerged. He reached for his towel and wiped his face dry, discreetly glancing to the shower on his left.

Semi was in that one, and though his designs were different, the same style of tattoos painted his skin. 

Oikawa turned to look behind him, where Shirabu stood at the sink, shirtless. 

He had them, too.

“Oh,” said Oikawa, in a low voice that was meant only for himself. “ _Oh_.”

He’d never understood the exclusivity of Block One, or why Ushijima had found it necessary to make arrangements to get certain inmates into his block.

Now it was all too clear.

Ushijima was yakuza. Probably of a high rank, based on the way the others deferred to him. He was yakuza, and it appeared that all of the other inmates in Block One were yakuza, too. That was why Oikawa had been transferred out. So they could stick together, as the mafia always did.

He still found it odd that Ushijima had invited him back. He wondered if he would have become yakuza too, if he’d accepted.

Oikawa finished up his shower and toweled off his hair as he approached the sinks. He pulled on his clean uniform, draped his towel around his neck, and gathered up his items to return to his cell.

Tendou caught him before he left, because that seemed to be the level of Oikawa’s luck.

“I hope you enjoyed your stay!” said Tendou, grinning. He was still naked, although he’d surely had adequate time to shower and redress. Oikawa suspected Tendou was just trying to make him uncomfortable. It was working. “Come back anytime. We’re here for your pleasure. If you’d like special treatment, you can place your order in advance. We’ll do whatever we can to accommodate. Right, Semi-Semi?”

Semi, who was passing by to fetch his clothes off of the sink, said, “Shut up, Tendou.”

Tendou’s grin went even wider.

“Thanks,” said Oikawa drily. “I think I’m good, though. I’ll see you around.”

“I sure hope so,” said Tendou. “Your body looks as good as your face, you know?”

Oikawa knew that shouldn’t embarrass him. Tendou was just messing around, as usual. Still, he couldn’t help the heat that burned across the bridge of his nose, staining his cheeks. 

If Tendou’s cackling was any indication, he noticed.

Oikawa exited into the hallway and pretended he wasn’t fleeing. 

He paced back to his cellblock, put his things away, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor. Iwaizumi’s shower bag was still gone. He hadn’t been back yet, even though Oikawa had spent too long in the Block One bathroom.

He should just sit and wait patiently. It wouldn’t kill him to be without Iwaizumi for five minutes.

But that coil of dread in his stomach pulsed, and he found he couldn’t sit still.

He left the cellblock again, heading in the opposite direction this time. He passed the empty cafeteria and continued, uncertainly, toward Block Three. 

Oikawa knew he shouldn’t go there. He’d been explicitly warned about going there.

But he had a bad feeling, and he couldn’t shake it off.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing, but that hope didn’t quite hold up when he rounded the corner and found a cluster of inmates grouped in the doorway of the Block Three bathroom, gawking at something inside. 

Oikawa’s heart leapt into his throat, although there was no reason for it. There was no indication that anything was wrong. Still, he hustled up to the group, seizing the shoulder of the first person he recognized. “Makki. What’s going on?”

Hanamaki looked at him, wide-eyed, and swiveled his head back around. Oikawa went up on his toes to see over him, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

There was a pair of guards in the bathroom, keeping everyone back. 

In the middle of the bathroom floor, barely visible through the open doorway, was a scarlet splash of blood.

Oikawa tried to push forward, but there was nowhere to go with the guards blocking the way. He scoured the small crowd, looking for a familiar face and failing to find it. He spun Hanamaki around too roughly. “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

Hanamaki’s face gave it away before he even spoke. “He’s… They just wheeled him out. I couldn’t do anything about it, Oikawa. I didn’t see it until it was already done. He was… there was blood everywhere.”

Oikawa couldn’t remember how to breathe. He couldn’t be sure that he’d ever breathed in his entire life. He looked at the blood again, and it was more horrific now that he knew it belonged to Iwaizumi.

When he turned away, he caught another pair of eyes from across the crowd, sharp and golden.

Kuroo grinned at him, and there was a smudge of blood on his cheek.


	10. Chapter 10

The only thing that stopped Oikawa from rushing Kuroo and beating him within an inch of his life – or maybe he wouldn’t have stopped at an inch, he was too furious to be sure – was his concern for Iwaizumi.

He shoved his way out of the crowd, sprinted down the hallway, and came to a dead stop when he realized he had no idea where the infirmary was located. He’d never had a need for it.

He wished he’d let Kageyama take him there weeks ago after the gym incident.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Kageyama crossed his path, heading toward Block Three at a brisk pace.

“Tobio!” he said, spinning to rush after him. “Wait!”

“I don’t have time,” said Kageyama, not slowing. “Something happened and I have to-”

Oikawa seized him by the arm and yanked him around. “I know something happened!” he said, too loudly. “I need you to take me to the infirmary to see Iwaizumi.”

Kageyama slapped his hand away and glanced around. “Don’t touch me like that. I’m a guard, remember?”

“Fuck you,” spat Oikawa. “Iwaizumi’s blood is all over the bathroom floor and I need to see him. You can give me points later. This is serious.”

Kageyama’s eyes went a little wider. “It was Iwaizumi?”

“Yes, it was Iwaizumi! Tobio, listen, you have to-”

“I can’t, Oikawa-san.”

“I don’t care, I need-”

“Oikawa-san. I have to do my job.” His tone went sharp, sterner than Oikawa had ever heard it. Kageyama had never raised his voice before, even at the worst of times. It startled Oikawa enough to leave him momentarily speechless. “Captain wants me to talk to the inmates and find out what happened. Afterward I’ll check on Iwaizumi and let you know how he is. That’s all I can do.”

It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t nearly good enough, but for once in his life Kageyama had resolve that Oikawa didn’t think he could break.

“Fine,” he said, the words forced between his teeth. “At least tell me where the infirmary is.”

Kageyama pointed across the hall and murmured a few vague instructions. They broke away in the same instant, in a rush for very different reasons.

Oikawa still didn’t know exactly where he was going, and it took him too long to find it, but he eventually located the infirmary at the far end of the prison, past Block Four. He tried the door, but it was locked, and no one came when he knocked.

He hadn’t expected anything more, but he was disappointed all the same.

He sank to the floor with his back against the wall, pulling his knees against his chest and pressing his forehead against them. 

This was his fault. He’d known something bad was going to happen, and he’d still let Iwaizumi switch assignments. If Oikawa had gone to Block Three like he was supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened. Oikawa may have been the one who’d bled out on the bathroom floor, but he would have preferred that to knowing Iwaizumi had been hurt. 

Hurt, or worse.

Oikawa didn’t know what he would do if Iwaizumi was dead. He didn’t think he could live with himself, with knowing that he could have stopped it.

He realized, distantly in the din of his hurricane thoughts, that he’d never been this worried for someone in his life. Oikawa had always been too selfish to care for anyone more than he cared for himself. Yet he knew with absolute certainty that he would have stepped in front of Iwaizumi if he’d been there, no matter what it would have cost him.

Maybe he’d caught Stockholm syndrome, and he would realize how stupid all of this was once he got out.

Or maybe this was just the first time he’d ever met anyone like Iwaizumi.

Oikawa didn’t know how long he sat there. It was long enough that he went numb from the waist down from the cold, hard floor. His stomach felt empty, and he’d been so conditioned by the repetitive routine that he thought it must have been lunchtime. 

He was staring at a window down the hallway, trying to guess the exact time from the angle of the sunlight, when the door to the infirmary opened.

Oikawa was immediately on his feet, nearly stumbling when the numbness gave way to the static prickle of pins and needles. He shook it off, ignored the discomfort, and stood tall to face Captain Sawamura.

The incident had only happened a few hours ago at most, but the captain looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Oikawa,” he said, as the door swung shut behind him. Oikawa resisted the urge to lunge forward and grab it. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting.” He clasped his hands behind his back to try and appear polite. “To see if Iwaizumi is okay.”

“Of course you are.” Sawamura rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought I assigned you to Block Three, not him. I was keeping him out of there for a reason.”

Oikawa didn’t respond to that. He couldn’t. “Have you seen him?”

“Yeah. He had to go to the hospital and get stitched up, but he’s going to be okay. He’s being transported back now. We’ll keep him in the infirmary for a few days, just to be safe.”

Oikawa soaked in those words, picked them apart one by one to make sure there was no other way to interpret them, that what he heard must have been true. He released a breath, and his body went half-limp with it. He leaned against the wall, relief making him dizzy. “He’s okay.”

Sawamura watched him. There was something in his eyes, a sort of speculation that Oikawa didn’t recognize and didn’t try to understand. “We’re investigating the incident. We’ll figure out what happened.”

“I know what happened,” said Oikawa, “and so should you. Kuroo happened. He’s had it out for Iwaizumi for months.”

Sawamura’s sigh was weary. “Kuroo didn’t do it.”

Oikawa found the strength to stand upright again, a strike of anger heating him from the inside out. “Of course Kuroo did it. He’s been fucking with us ever since I got here. He got his chance and he took it. You need to get him out of here before he tries to finish Iwaizumi off.”

“I just said he didn’t do it.”

“If you really think that then you’re fucking-”

“Shut up,” snapped Sawamura. It was sharper than Oikawa had ever heard him, and he reminded himself that Sawamura had the authority to throw him in solitary, where he would have access to no news whatsoever about Iwaizumi. “Kuroo was nowhere near him when it happened. He’d already showered and left the room. Don’t you think I checked into him first? I’m not an idiot. I know what’s been happening in my prison.”

Oikawa swallowed. His mouth was bone dry. “Okay. Sorry.”

Sawamura pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed out a breath. “Stop lurking around out here. Go get lunch and go about your business.”

“But I-”

“I told you he’s fine.” Sawamura dropped his hand and gave Oikawa a look of iron. “It’s the truth. He’s fine. Go.”

Oikawa wanted to argue. He wanted to insist that Sawamura let him sit there until Iwaizumi got back, until he could see for himself that he was okay.

But it was clear that Sawamura wasn’t about to change his mind, no matter what Oikawa said.

“Okay.” The last thing he wanted was to walk away from that door, but he had no choice. “Okay, I’m going. Thanks, Captain.”

Sawamura said nothing. He stayed planted in the same spot, watching Oikawa until he’d reached the end of the hallway and rounded the corner. 

Oikawa didn’t pay attention to where he was walking. Too much of his mind was on Iwaizumi to actively think of anything else. He paced the hallways, barely noticing when he meandered past Blocks Four and Three. He spared a glance for the Block Three bathroom on impulse, but it had been cleaned up, and if he hadn’t seen it firsthand, he could have convinced himself nothing bad had happened there.

His legs carried him to the cafeteria on autopilot, and he was hardly aware of his surroundings until Matsukawa leaned across the table to nudge his shoulder. “Yo, Oikawa. You alright?”

Oikawa blinked a few times, forcing himself to focus. Matsukawa was beside Hanamaki, who was so subdued that he seemed to be a different person. The others were in a similar state of gloom, Kindaichi keeping his head down as he picked through his lunch. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Matsukawa raised a brow. “You don’t look like it. You didn’t even get lunch.”

Oikawa looked at the table in front of him. His tray was conspicuously absent. “Oh. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Things like this happen sometimes,” said Matsukawa. “It’s prison, you know. People get shanked. It’s lucky he’s okay. You did say he’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Sawamura said.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” mumbled Hanamaki. “You’re acting like he’s fucking dead.”

“He’s not dead.” Oikawa slid a glance to the side, where Iwaizumi would have sat if he’d been with them. “He’s not dead, but Kuroo will be.” He leaned back slightly to peer around Kindaichi at the Block Three table. They weren’t shaded by the same dark cloud as Block Two. They talked and joked as if everything was normal. Kuroo sat at the far end of the table as always, flanked by Kozume. He grinned at something one of his block mates said, shoulders shrugging in a laugh. He scooped up a bite of his lunch, and seemed to realize he was being watched. He caught Oikawa’s eyes from across the cafeteria, still grinning, and raised his hand in a wave.

Oikawa gritted his teeth so hard that he thought they would splinter. He forced himself to look away, gripping the edge of the table to ground himself.

There had been many occasions in Oikawa’s life in which someone had earned his ire. Hatred was nothing new for him.

The way he felt for Kuroo, though, was something else entirely.

“If Sawamura finds out he did it, he’ll get sent to max,” said Hanamaki. “He won’t be our problem anymore.”

“That won’t happen,” saisd Oikawa. “Kuroo’s already convinced him he’s innocent. The smug bastard thinks he’s going to get away with it.” 

Oikawa wasn’t about to let that happen.

“What do you plan to do about it, then?” said Matsukawa.

“I don’t know yet.” Oikawa tossed one last glance toward Kuroo. He was now laughing so hard at something one of his friends had said that he slouched against Kozume for support. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Kindaichi quietly. He put his spork down, and Oikawa realized he’d barely eaten anything at all. He’d spent the last ten minutes nudging everything back and forth on his tray. “You’ll just get yourself in trouble, too. You haven’t been here long enough to know how this works.”

“Fuck it,” said Kyoutani from the other end of the table. “Let’s fuck him up right now.”

Yahaba yanked him back down so hard that the whole table rocked. “You’re not doing shit, Kyoutani. Shut up.”

They dissolved into their own argument, and Oikawa looked toward Block Three again. He didn’t see what Kuroo was doing now, though. His eyes caught on the guard passing by the table, headed for the cafeteria door.

Oikawa tripped over his seat in his haste to stand. “I’ve gotta go. See you guys later.”

Someone called after him. It may have been Hanamaki, or Kindaichi, or any of the others. He was too fixated on Kageyama’s back to listen.

He caught up with him just around the corner. The sounds of cafeteria conversation were still audible, but muffled. 

“Tobio-chan!”

Kageyama stopped, shoulders going stiff with tension. He turned toward Oikawa warily, eyes darting around the hallway, searching for eavesdroppers. “Oikawa-san.” 

“I need to talk to you.”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“I don’t care. Now, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama looked as if he wanted to argue, but whatever resolve he’d scraped up earlier that morning seemed to have waned. He took one more scan of the hallway and led Oikawa farther away from the cafeteria, slipping down an adjacent hallway and stopping at a door Oikawa knew all too well. Kageyama pushed it open, and Oikawa didn’t hesitate before ducking into the broom closet. 

Kageyama shut the door, pressed a palm against it to hold it closed, and said, “Iwaizumi is okay. Captain Sawamura said so earlier.”

“I know that already. Why do you think I didn’t track you down sooner?”

“Then what do you want?”

“I need to see him.”

Kageyama yanked open the door, but Oikawa lunged forward and slammed it shut again. They were so close in height that it was impossible to tell who outmatched who, even when Oikawa was standing so close that he was practically snarling into Kageyama’s face. 

“Move, Oikawa-san.”

“No. He should be back from the hospital by now and I need to see him. You’re the only one who can sneak me into the infirmary.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I’m not getting fired over this.” Kageyama’s hand slipped down, resting at the pouch clipped onto his belt. He’d clearly changed since Oikawa had seen him on the outside, but still Oikawa thought he didn’t have the nerve to use any of that equipment. “I’m not letting you in there. It’s against the rules. If Sawamura found out-”

“I’m not planning to tell him.”

“It doesn’t matter. If someone saw you, my career would be over.”

“You say that as if it was always your lifelong dream to be a prison guard,” said Oikawa. He moved closer, forcing Kageyama against the wall. “You’ve only been doing this for a few months, Tobio-chan. You had a very different career before that. What would stop you from finding a new one again?”

“I am not losing this job.”

“Well I’m not losing Iwaizumi. You’re going to let me see him.”

“No, I’m not.” Kageyama shoved him back, with more strength than Oikawa had anticipated. He stumbled, barely catching himself against the sink. “Iwaizumi will be released back into general population in a few days. You can talk to him then.”

“That isn’t soon enough.”

“I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can,” snapped Oikawa. “You just won’t. If he gets out and Kuroo goes after him again-”

“What’s Kuroo have to do with anything?”

Oikawa wanted to slap him. “He’s the one who fucking did this! That’s what he has to do with it. Are you blind or just stupid, Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama either failed to register that insult or chose to ignore it. “Kuroo didn’t hurt Iwaizumi.”

“Yes, he did.” 

It didn’t matter that Sawamura had said otherwise. Oikawa knew better.

“He didn’t.” Kageyama pushed his hair back and glanced around the closet, as if just realizing where they were. “Captain Sawamura had me talk to all the inmates who’d been around when it happened. No one from Block Three was anywhere close to Iwaizumi.”

“Did you ever stop to consider they were fucking lying?”

Kageyama shook his head. “They weren’t. Kuroo had already left the bathroom when Iwaizumi was… umm, hurt. He was out in the hallway. He’d stopped Hinata to ask about something, and it happened while they were talking. Everyone rushed out in a panic. Hinata went in and Kuroo went with him to try and help. He tried to stop the bleeding while Hinata called for help. Kuroo didn’t do anything, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa didn’t doubt that Kageyama was telling the truth. He’d never been a good liar. Still, Oikawa didn’t believe the possibility of Kuroo’s innocence for even a second. “Kuroo had someone else do it, then. This is still his fault.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Kageyama pulled the door open, and this time Oikawa didn’t stop him. “I have rounds to make. Just let this go.” He paused on the threshold, took a breath, and turned to face Oikawa. His face was open and earnest as he said, “Please. For your own good. I don’t want to see you get in trouble here, Oikawa-san.”

He was being genuine. Kageyama was always genuine.

Still, Oikawa seethed with anger. “Don’t worry about me, Tobio-chan. I have no plans to get in trouble.” The words were low, sour, but Kageyama accepted them with a nod. He exited into the hallway, but Oikawa stayed where he was. He sank down and sat with his back against the wall, in a very similar posture to the one he’d held all morning outside the infirmary. His back ached in protest, but it was easy enough to ignore.

Despite what Kageyama, or Sawamura, or Kindaichi, or _anyone_ said, Oikawa knew he needed to take care of this. Kindaichi had been right when he’d said Oikawa hadn’t been in prison long enough to know how everything worked, but he didn’t need experience to know this. Something needed to be done, and he was the only one who would step up and do it.

He sat in the broom closet for about half an hour. That was how long it took for him to come up with an alternate plan to get into the infirmary. He peeled himself off the floor, and a few minutes later squinted against the afternoon sun as he emerged into the yard.

It was Block Four’s day on the basketball court. Oikawa recognized some of the faces, but Bokuto was conspicuously absent. That was odd, considering Bokuto was almost always on the court, even when it wasn’t his turn. He and Kuroo frequented each others’ basketball games, despite the separation of their blocks.

It was only then that Oikawa realized he hadn’t seen Bokuto hanging around Kuroo lately, not since the one-sided fight in the gym. Maybe they’d had a falling out, or maybe Bokuto had gotten smart and separated himself from Kuroo before he got dragged down with him.

Kuroo was across the yard, walking around the trail with some of his Block Three friends. Block Two was at the picnic tables nearby, playing cards in a more somber atmosphere than usual. Block One was only a few tables away, and that was where Oikawa headed.

Ushijima noticed him first, and Oikawa was too focused on his mission to be bothered by him. “Hello, Oikawa. I was sorry to hear about Iwaizumi. I have been told that he will recover, however.”

“Yeah, he’ll recover,” said Oikawa, waving him off. He slapped a palm on the table, startling Semi into glaring up at him. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

“What about?” said Semi

“It’s personal. That’s why I said _alone_.” When it seemed he would argue, Oikawa added, more quietly, “Please.”

The heat of Semi’s glare faded. He glanced at Tendou, who sat at an extremely close proximity on his other side, and then across the table at Ushijima, almost as if asking for permission.

Ushijima said nothing, but apparently something about his face or his posture gave Semi the approval he was looking for. He rose from the table without a word and followed Oikawa inside. 

Oikawa led him to an isolated hallway. It wasn’t the one that led to the broom closet, but it was nearly identical. When he was satisfied with the level of privacy, Oikawa spun on his heel and was unsurprised to find that Tendou had tagged along, too. “I asked for Semi. Only Semi.”

Tendou shrugged. He wore his usual half-manic grin. “Yeah, I know. You have this crazy look in your eyes, though. I want to see what happens.”

Oikawa should have been irritated, but he was so acutely focused on his mission that he let it go. He dismissed him in favor of Semi, who stood with his arms folded across his chest, waiting. 

“I need a favor.”

One of Semi’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think I would do you a favor?”

“Because you’ll enjoy yourself,” said Oikawa. “I need you to hit me in the face as hard as you can.”

Semi’s other eyebrow rose to join the first, skepticism stamped into the lines of his face. At his side, Tendou cackled.

“This is a trick,” said Semi. “I don’t know how, but it has to be.”

“It’s not a trick. I’m serious. I need to get into the infirmary to see Iwaizumi and this is the only way I can do it. Don’t break my nose, though. I don’t want to ruin my face.”

Tendou wheezed. “Then you asked for the wrong favor. You’re underestimating my Semi-Semi. If he hits you as hard as he can, your face will never look the same again, Oikawa-kun.”

Oikawa eyed Semi, weighing the truth of that. His arms may not have been as thick as Iwaizumi’s, but they weren’t far off. “Okay, maybe not as hard as you can. Just hard enough to convince the guards I need to get checked. A little blood would make a good presentation, too.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” said Semi. “I’m not hitting you.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not getting my ass sent to max,” he snapped. “I’ve been there before and I’m not fucking going back. Ask someone else.”

He turned to stomp away. Oikawa reached for him, intending to yank him back, but Tendou stepped in his way. 

“I wouldn’t touch him, Oikawa-kun. Not a great idea.”

“What’s he going to do?” asked Oikawa, his voice acid. “Hit me?”

Tendou snorted, his grin returning. “You’re funny. I like that. I think you should do it, Semi-Semi.”

Semi, who’d only made it a few paces down the hallway, stopped to glare over his shoulder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“C’mon, what’ve you got to lose? It’s for a good cause. Do it in the name of love.” Tendou leered at Oikawa, as if daring him to deny it. 

Oikawa didn’t bother. He didn’t have time. “Please, Semi. I’ll owe you a favor.”

“It’s not about that. If a guard finds out-”

“They won’t find out,” said Oikawa, speaking quickly before Semi came up with any more arguments. “I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear. I didn’t even tell anyone when it was Kuroo, and I fucking hate Kuroo.”

Tendou tilted his head. “He’s right, you know.”

Semi looked between the pair of them, visibly exasperated. He teetered on the edge of a decision, and at length said, “Fine. But if you try and get me in trouble for it later I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa, accepting the terms too easily. “Thank you.”

“Don’t knock him out,” said Tendou, as Semi stepped closer. “You might cause permanent brain damage.”

“I won’t. I know how to pull a punch.” He scowled at Oikawa, eyeing the line of his jaw. “Close your eyes.”

Oikawa hadn’t considered it before Semi said it, but that was a great suggestion. He hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to stand completely still while waiting for someone to punch him. He closed his eyes, and the last thing he saw was Semi winding back, teeth bared in a subconscious snarl.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa didn’t pass out. He went dizzy for a few seconds, but he didn’t pass out.

He didn’t think so, anyway, until he opened his eyes and realized he was sitting in the floor.

There was a whistle above him, long and low. Tendou’s voice followed it. “That was a good one, Semi-Semi. Damn.”

Oikawa pressed the heel of his hand against his mouth. His entire face throbbed. “Did you seriously hit me in the mouth?” His voice sounded distant, reedy. That was probably just because of the mild ringing in his ears, but it was already fading. “What if you’d knocked out one of my teeth?”

“I guess that’s a risk you take when you ask someone to hit you.” Semi dropped into a crouch, eyeing him with a frown. He gripped Oikawa’s wrist and pried his hand away. “Open your mouth.” Oikawa did so, pulling his lips back, and Semi nodded. “You’re good. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

The pain lancing through Oikawa’s face begged to differ.

“Besides, you said you wanted blood.” Semi flipped Oikawa’s hand over. “A busted lip is the best way to go.”

Oikawa realized, belatedly, there was a smear of scarlet across the palm of his hand. He licked his lips and tasted copper. “Oh. Wow. Thanks, Semi.”

“That’s a first,” said Semi. He stood again, and extended a hand to help Oikawa to his feet. 

If Oikawa hadn’t been so dazed from the punch, he would have been surprised that Semi was being so helpful. “I need to go find a guard. I’ll tell them I tripped or something.” 

“Whatever. Just keep my name out of it.”

“Let’s go visit our closet, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. His big eyes hadn’t left Oikawa’s bloody mouth. “I think I left something there.”

Semi rolled his eyes, but went without argument. Just before they rounded the corner, Oikawa thought he saw Tendou’s hand wander perilously close to Semi’s ass.

He could have imagined it. He’d been nearly knocked out, after all.

But it was more likely that Tendou had been turned out by the sight of his boyfriend punching Oikawa in the face.

They were both freaks, but Oikawa found that he grudgingly liked them anyway.

He wandered back toward the main hall, in the general direction of the infirmary, until he found a guard. That guard happened to be Sugawara, and Oikawa was quietly grateful. 

Sugawara didn’t ask a lot of questions, once he saw the blood. He asked if another inmate had been involved, and when Oikawa said no, he let it go. He probably knew better. Nothing about Sugawara gave the impression that he was dull. Still, it was easier to accept an explanation that didn’t involve conflict among the inmates.

Sugawara marched him right up to the door of the infirmary, swiped his ID across the scanner, and took him inside. Five minutes later a doctor with an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear was pinching Oikawa’s upper lip, inspecting his teeth. 

That had been almost too easy.

“Doesn’t look like anything’s broken,” said the doctor. Sugawara had called him Ukai. He didn’t look like any medical doctor Oikawa had ever seen, with his bleached hair and rumpled clothes. He smelled strongly of cigarettes and he looked like he hadn’t slept in at least a week. “What’d you say happened?”

“I tripped and fell into a door.”

Doctor Ukai wheeled his stool back and gave him a flat look. “That’s the story you’re going with?”

“Yes.”

Ukai shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll get you an ice pack and a couple ibuprofen. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, doctor,” said Oikawa, as Ukai stood. Just before he stepped through the door to the back room, Oikawa added, “Take your time. The more time I spend right here means the less time I have to spend out there.”

“I hear that. Sit tight.”

He left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, and Oikawa immediately hopped off the edge of his cot. The treatment room was small, a handful of beds spread along a narrow wall, separated by thin blue curtains. Oikawa had been placed on the first one, closest to the door. He rushed around it, ramming his thigh into the corner of the cot in his haste, and shoved the curtain open to the next bed. It was empty, as was the next one, and the next one. But the last one, closest to the wall, was occupied.

Oikawa stood frozen with the curtain crumpled in his hand, pinned in place by a sharp, dark stare.

“I thought that sounded like you,” said Iwaizumi. His complexion was a little chalky, but otherwise he looked the same as usual. He was propped up against a heap of flat pillows, covers pulled up to his waist, a papery hospital gown covering his torso. “Did you actually get hurt or did you make up some stupid story so you could check and see if I was dead?”

“Both, sort of,” said Oikawa. He released the curtain and dropped onto the edge of Iwaizumi’s bed. He didn’t look away from him, couldn’t. “You’re okay.”

“And you’re dramatic. No surprise there.”

“Forgive me for being worried,” said Oikawa. “Would you rather I didn’t care?”

Iwaizumi considered that, longer than he should have. When he spoke, his voice was lower. “No. Thanks for caring.”

Oikawa sighed, relief easing some of his tension. He wanted to reach for Iwaizumi’s hand, but didn’t know if that was acceptable. It wasn’t like they were together. He didn’t think that was the way it worked in prison. “How do you feel?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’m alright. Doctor Ukai left for a while and brought back some greasy takeout food from down the street. Getting shanked has its perks.”

“Are you serious?”

Iwaizumi gestured to the small trash can beside his bed. A takeout bag, the edges soaked in grease, was wadded up inside. 

Oikawa laughed. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, and gripped a handful of his own hair to contain his hysteria. He knew he was only laughing, but it felt suspiciously similar to crying. 

“What happened to you, anyway?”

Oikawa chuckled once more, and it felt like it tore its way out of his throat. “I got punched in the face. Voluntarily. I thought it would get me in and it worked.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “You’re a fucking lunatic, you know that?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Iwaizumi sat back against his pillows, using his arms as leverage to adjust his position. He winced, just barely, and Oikawa eyed the hospital gown.

“How bad is it?”

“Not serious. It bled a lot, but it missed anything important. It’s just a deep cut.”

“Can I see?”

“Fuckin’ weirdo.” Iwaizumi yanked the gown up, exposing his stomach. The gash was on his left side, covered by a layer of bandages. “That’s all you can see. If I take it off, it’ll bleed. They only gave me a few stitches. It doesn’t even look bad.”

“Does it hurt?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. Oikawa thought that was probably his way of saying yes.

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi’s hand again. His own twitched, but he held it back. “Was it Kuroo?” He’d already been told that it wasn’t, but he still couldn’t come to terms with that.

Iwaizumi sighed. He sank farther into the pillows, as if he was deflating. “No.”

“Then who-”

“He wasn’t the one who did it,” said Iwaizumi. “Not directly. It was his order, though. I know it was. The way he looked at me when I was laying there fucking bleeding on the floor… he definitely fucking ordered it.”

“Who did it, then?”

Iwaizumi considered, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have anything to do with it, not directly.”

“But if we tell Sawamura-”

“I’m not a snitch, Tooru.”

Oikawa faltered. He’d learned this about prison already, that it was always best to keep his mouth shut.

If he couldn’t get the guards to settle this, he would just have to do it himself.

“Okay,” he said. Iwaizumi’s brow creased; he clearly hadn’t expected Oikawa to give in that easily. “Forget about the guards, then. I’ll take care of it.”

He started to stand, but Iwaizumi grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. His face contorted; the movement must have strained his wound. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“You can’t retaliate,” said Oikawa. “You have your hearing next week.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So someone else has to do it. I think the other Block Two guys are afraid. That’s fine. I’m not.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid. If you don’t watch your back, they’ll get you next.”

“It was probably me they were after in the first place, wasn’t it?” said Oikawa. “I don’t think our showers getting clogged up is a coincidence. I was supposed to be in Block Three this morning instead of you. Kuroo planned to have me stabbed. If I don’t put a stop to this now, it’s only a matter of time until it’s my turn.”

Iwaizumi’s face darkened. “That won’t happen. When I get out of this bed, I’ll handle it.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll mind your business and get your parole. This may be a surprise to you, but I can take care of myself.”

Iwaizumi’s stare was piercing. His fingers were still looped around Oikawa’s wrist. “Kuroo was only fucking with you to get to me. Now that he got me, he might leave you alone. Hell, when I’m out of this place, he’ll have to leave you alone. He’ll have no reason to go after you. Just let this go.”

“I can’t do that, Hajime.” He pulled his hand free. Iwaizumi let it go, and didn’t protest when Oikawa flipped it over and slipped his fingers between Iwaizumi’s. “Kuroo won’t get away with this.”

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy, an intangible fog. Iwaizumi’s jaw twitched, as if he was grinding his teeth, or chewing at the inside of his mouth. It was a habit of uncertainty, one that Oikawa had never seen from him. Tension bloomed, heavy to the point of suffocation. Iwaizumi was the one to break it.

“You know I’m not a good person,” he said quietly. 

Oikawa blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Iwaizumi huffed and looked off toward the wall. “We’re all in here for a reason. I don’t think you understand that. You treat me like I’ve never done anything fucking wrong, like I don’t deserve everything I get in here. It’s fucking stupid.”

“You don’t deserve to get stabbed.”

“Don’t I?” Iwaizumi looked back at him, and his eyes were cold in a way that Oikawa hadn’t seen since they’d first met. “You don’t know what I did to get here, Tooru.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not that person anymore.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Iwaizumi started to fold his arms across his chest, remembered one of his hands was still in Oikawa’s, and aborted the motion. “You know if I get parole I’m only going to be here until whatever release date they set. It’ll probably be a month away. That’s all I’ll have left.”

“And?”

“And there’s no point in this,” he said, squeezing Oikawa’s hand. “It’ll be over. You’re wasting your time with this. With me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Fuck you,” spat Iwaizumi. “You’ll never see me again. You’ll get out in two years and go back to your life. You’re fucking smart. You’ll find something to do and it’ll be like you were never here. It’ll be back to normal, for you.” He scowled down at their linked hands. “Everyone will always look at me like a fucking convict. I look like I belong in prison. There’s no good life for me out there. You’re wasting your fucking time with me here.”

“Shut up, Hajime.” 

He did, but it was with a bitter huff. He glared at the far wall, brows furrowed into an impossibly deep scowl. Still, he didn’t let go of Oikawa’s hand.

Oikawa didn’t know what to say to him. He should have offered some sort of reassurance, some indication that he planned to see Iwaizumi after all of this was over, that he would be thinking about him for the next two years, whether Iwaizumi took the time to think of him or not.

Before he could say anything at all, Iwaizumi spoke up again. “You know I killed someone.”

Oikawa’s hand went tight around Iwaizumi’s. It was an unconscious spasm, one that he couldn’t control. He glanced at the tattoo beneath Iwaizumi’s eye, the black sketched teardrop. “I didn’t know, but I’d guessed.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Oikawa thought about his answer before he gave it. He’d already mulled this over during a few sleepless nights, trying to come to terms with how much he was willing to forgive in regard to Iwaizumi’s crimes.

He’d decided already that it didn’t matter what he’d done. Oikawa would have forgiven him anything. 

“No. It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“You just said I was smart a minute ago.”

“I was wrong.” Iwaizumi squeezed Oikawa’s hand again, then slowly pried their fingers apart. He folded his arms and scowled down at the bedsheets. He was quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Oikawa thought Ukai would come bursting back into the room and send him away. But he didn’t come back, and Iwaizumi finally spoke. “I started getting high when I was twelve. By the time I was fifteen I was strung out all the time, day and night. It was all I ever thought about. I liked heroin best, but I would take about anything I could get.”

He stopped talking, but Oikawa didn’t say anything. He had a feeling he wasn’t finished.

Iwaizumi’s jaw twitched a few times and he continued. “I had a girlfriend. We got high together every fucking day. It was stupid, but we were just kids. We didn’t know any better.” He shifted, uncomfortably. “I started shooting up when I turned seventeen. She wasn’t into it. Needles scared her, but I talked her into it. I told her to close her eyes and I did it for her.” He tilted his head back, eyes fixed sightlessly on the ceiling. “I gave her too much. Way too fucking much. She overdosed, and I didn’t call anyone because I was afraid I’d get arrested for all the fucking drugs. I just left her there, and the next day she was dead.” He drummed his fingers against his bicep. It seemed to be a nervous gesture, but that couldn’t be right. Iwaizumi didn’t seem like the type of man to battle nerves. “I got charged with murder, but it got pled down in court because they said it was an accident. That’s the only reason I’m not in here for life.”

“It _was_ an accident,” said Oikawa quietly. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No, but I might as well have.” His eyes slipped to Oikawa again, and they were guarded. “It’d be the same if I’d blown her fucking brains out. I killed her either way. That’s all that matters. If I’d called a fucking ambulance when it happened, they could’ve saved her.”

Oikawa reached for his hand. He was half-afraid that Iwaizumi would pull away, but his fingers slipped into Oikawa’s easily. “I’m sorry, Hajime.”

“For what?”

“That you have to live with that.”

Iwaizumi laughed. It was harsh, humorless. “Don’t apologize for something I did.”

Oikawa chewed over the silence for another minute. There was a sound beyond the doorway through which Ukai had disappeared, but he still didn’t emerge.

“He’s probably back there smoking,” said Iwaizumi, inflectionless. “That’s all he does. He won’t give me a cigarette and it pisses me off. I’d do about fucking anything for a menthol.”

“You smoke out in the yard all the time.”

“Yeah, the cheap shit that Mattsun smuggles in. It’s not the same.”

“Cigarettes are bad for you.”

“So is heroin, but I didn’t seem to care about that when I was using it every day.”

“But you’re not doing it anymore,” said Oikawa. “I think that’s what matters most.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Whatever.”

There was a thump from behind the door. Oikawa tried to ignore it.

“When I first got here,” said Iwaizumi, staring at the opposite wall, “a rumor went around that I curbstomped some guy’s skull in because he pissed me off. I don’t know how it got started, but it made everyone scared of me, so I didn’t correct them. I wanted people to be afraid, so I wouldn’t get fucked with.” He sighed, tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “I wish that’s what I’d done. It would be easier to live with.”

There was another sound beyond the door, closer, and Oikawa stood. “What you did doesn’t matter, Hajime. Your past isn’t who you are.”

“Bullshit.”

Arguing with him was impossible. If he wanted to lie there in a bed of self-pity, Oikawa couldn’t stop him.

He started to walk away, but paused at the foot of Iwaizumi’s bed. He turned back and said, quietly, “It was Akaashi, wasn’t it?”

Iwaizumi said nothing. It was answer enough.

Oikawa took three steps before Iwaizumi spoke.

“Don’t go after him for this. Akaashi’s more dangerous than Kuroo, when he needs to be, but he doesn’t bother anyone unless he has a good reason. Kuroo must have given him one.”

Oikawa thought about that, long enough for the door to swing open. Ukai emerged, a fresh cigarette tucked behind his ear. There was a pair of pills in one cupped hand and a plastic bag of ice in the other. He looked at the pair of them and jerked his head, a clear command for Oikawa to move. 

“I’ll leave Akaashi out of it,” said Oikawa. He didn’t like it, but he trusted Iwaizumi’s judgment. Akaashi wasn’t the one at fault, anyway. He wasn’t the one who’d orchestrated the attack. “Get some rest, Hajime. I’ll see you when you get back to our cell.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Oikawa waved over his shoulder, not looking back. “Can’t make any promises.”

Ukai didn’t comment on their exchange. He seemed like the sort of man who wanted to do his job and go home, and Oikawa respected that. He took his ibuprofen, slapped the ice pack over his mouth, and left the infirmary with a sense of purpose.

He knew what he needed to do.


	11. Chapter 11

When Oikawa left the infirmary, there were still a couple of hours remaining before dinner. It had been a nice day outside, but still it was possible that many of the inmates had migrated back inside to rest in their cells before showing up for their meal.

Oikawa supposed if that was the case, he would just have to infiltrate Block One and hope for the best. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it.

When he cracked open the door to the yard and peered outside, he was relieved to find that hardly anyone had moved since he’d fetched Semi from the picnic tables. Block Two was still in the usual spot, Hanamaki dealing cards as if he was on a Vegas payroll. Kuroo had settled into the grass beside the walking path, accompanied by three of his friends that Oikawa didn’t know. Block Four, with the exception of Bokuto and - now that Oikawa was thinking of him - Akaashi, was on the basketball court, their game winding down.

And Block One was still at their regular table, right where Oikawa had left them.

This time Oikawa approached with more composure. His nerves were still raw, but speaking with Iwaizumi had calmed him down. Oikawa had seen firsthand that he was in one piece, and he knew he would stay that way at least for a couple of days, until he was released back into general population.

By then it would be safe for him. Oikawa would make sure of that.

“Ushijima… -san,” said Oikawa as he drew level with the Block One picnic table, adding the honorific as an afterthought. Ushijima had never seemed to care for such formalities before, but Oikawa needed to be respectful for once in his life. “Can I speak with you?”

“Of course, Oikawa.” Ushijima nodded across the table, at the empty spot left by Semi and Tendou’s absence. They were probably still in the broom closet. Oikawa had a spiteful hope that they would get caught, as he and Iwaizumi had done, but retracted the thought immediately. He didn’t have any ill wishes toward them, not really. They’d helped him. He wouldn’t have gotten into the infirmary without them.

Oikawa glanced down the table at the other Block One inmates. Shirabu in particular was watching him with sharp speculation.

“Can I speak with you alone?” Oikawa amended.

Ushijima considered him, silent. He made a small gesture, one that Oikawa wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching him so closely. As if they’d received a command, the other inmates stood as one, moving toward the door. 

The display of authority was impressive. Oikawa may have cared more, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with Iwaizumi. He sat across from Ushijima, folding his hands on the edge of the table. He slid a quick glance to the side, toward his blockmates a few tables over. They were pretending not to stare, but doing a terrible job of it. 

That didn’t matter. There was enough distance between them that he wouldn’t be overheard.

“Are you speaking for yourself,” said Ushijima, “or on behalf of your Block?”

“What do you mean?”

“Iwaizumi is out of commission,” said Ushijima, ignoring Oikawa’s slight wince, “so I assume you have taken charge of Block Two until his return.”

Oikawa just stared at him. He didn’t know how long all of his blockmates had been in prison, but it was certainly longer than his stay. “Why would I be in charge?”

Ushijima shrugged. It was a slight motion, but his shoulders were so broad that it was like a shift of a mountain. “You are here speaking to me while the others flock together like sheep. It lends the suggestion of authority.”

Oikawa almost said something to his blockmates’ defense, but shook his head and let it go. “I’m just here for myself. I’m not in charge of anything.”

Ushijima inclined his head, silent permission to continue.

Oikawa sat taller. “You know Kuroo is the one who ordered the attack on Iwaizumi.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Do you intend to do anything about it?”

“Why would I?” There was no malice, or mocking. He was as calm as ever, so expressionless that his face may have been carved from stone. “He does not belong to my block.”

Oikawa now knew that by “block”, Ushijima really meant “yakuza”. 

“I know,” said Oikawa, “but you mostly run the prison, right?”

Ushijima’s stare remained steady. “What gave you that impression?”

Oikawa barely kept his sarcasm to himself. He couldn’t make Ushijima angry, not right now, when he needed him. “Someone told me that, when I first got here.” He thought it had been Tendou, but two months ago felt like years and he couldn’t be sure. “It’s obvious, anyway. Iwaizumi might be at the top of the ladder in Block Two, and Kuroo in Block Three, but you have more control than they do. You got the guards to switch inmate assignments, even after Sawamura told Semi he had to stay in Two. Kuroo doesn’t fuck with you, and Iwaizumi stays out of your way, too.”

“I am no better than Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima. “He and I came to an understanding a while ago. That is why we have no conflict. I stay out of his way, also.”

Oikawa took a breath. He didn’t have time to sketch out a full map of the prison hierarchy. “Sure, whatever. But you do have a lot of power here.”

“I suppose that I do.”

“So if you’re in charge,” said Oikawa, returning to his main point, “you can do something about Kuroo.”

“I could,” said Ushijima. Oikawa felt a spark of hope, until he continued, “but I won’t.”

“Why?” It came out sharper than Oikawa had intended, but Ushijima wasn’t offended.

“My protection only extends to my Block,” said Ushijima. He shrugged again, ugly orange stretched tight over his shoulders. It was the same uniform that everyone else wore, but it didn’t look the same on Ushijima. Oikawa could almost believe Ushijima was wearing it by choice. “Iwaizumi does not belong to me.”

“But you’re friends,” said Oikawa, although he thought he was pushing the meaning of that word. “You just said you have an understanding. Shouldn’t you have his back when he’s being targeted like this?”

“Iwaizumi is a capable man,” said Ushijima. “He can take care of himself.”

“But-”

“If our situations were reversed,” said Ushijima, talking over him, “Iwaizumi would do nothing to protect me. I would not expect him to. If I cannot protect myself, I deserve any forthcoming consequences.”

He was serious. Of course he was.

“What if…” Oikawa weighed his words, thought of swallowing them, but continued. “What if I transfer to Block One, like you asked?”

“I would be pleased to have you.”

Oikawa thought of the tattoos, and how long it would be before he would be expected to get them, too. It wasn’t something he wanted, but if it would help Iwaizumi… “Would you do something, then? About Kuroo?”

“If Kuroo attacked you while you were under my protection, then yes. I would handle it.”

“But Iwaizumi-”

“Still would not be part of Block One,” said Ushijima. “Your affiliation does not affect him.”

Oikawa closed his eyes and took a breath. He couldn’t let himself scream at Ushijima. “What if Iwaizumi transferred to Block One?”

“He will not.”

Oikawa’s eyes opened into a glare. Before he could stop himself he snapped, “Oh, so you’d let me in but not him? What the fuck, Ushijima?”

Ushijima was unmoved. “I invited you into my Block because you would be a good fit. You are an intelligent man, Oikawa. I was concerned about your yielding nature, at first, but it seems you have overcome that. You would be a good addition to Block One.” He paused, and added, “However, I would not be opposed to Iwaizumi’s presence, either. I have only respect for him. I would allow it, but he will not transfer, no matter what fate befalls him. He will stick with Block Two until the end. He is too stubborn to do otherwise. Perhaps that is why the two of you have gotten along so well. You are the same, in that regard.”

Oikawa wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Ushijima that he was wrong, that Iwaizumi would transfer to Block One if that meant saving himself, that he would swallow his pride long enough to protect his own life.

But before the first syllable of that argument left his mouth, Oikawa knew Ushijima was right.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t leave Block Two for anything.

Oikawa sighed, slumping onto his elbows. “Fuck.”

Ushijima nodded, as if he saw the wisdom in the profanity.

Oikawa looked over his shoulder, toward the cluster of inmates sitting in the grass. From that angle, he only saw the back of Kuroo’s messy hair. “So you really won’t do anything.”

“If it does not concern my Block, then I cannot.”

“He’ll just get away with it.”

“If nothing else is done,” said Ushijima, “then I suppose he will.”

Oikawa took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It didn’t work. He still felt he would fracture into pieces.

Kuroo would walk, without even a slap on the wrist for what he’d done. Iwaizumi was laid up in the infirmary, and Kuroo was lounging back on the sun-soaked grass, at ease and unscathed. He would go about his business as usual, and never face a single consequence for orchestrating an attack that could have killed someone.

There was nothing to stop him from doing it again, from coming after Iwaizumi to finish him off, or to target someone else. Maybe some other random inmate he had a vendetta against, or maybe against another member of Block Two.

Or maybe Oikawa himself.

The heat of injustice burned low in Oikawa’s blood.

He wouldn’t let that happen, any of it. If no one else would step up, as Ushijima had suggested, Oikawa would just have to do it himself.

“Okay,” said Oikawa. It sounded calmer than Oikawa felt. He was angry, but it was all reserved for Kuroo. He didn't have any spare resentment for Ushijima, despite his unhelpfulness. “Thanks anyway, Ushijima.”

“Wait.”

Oikawa paused halfway out of his seat and slowly sank back down.

Ushijima watched him with new intensity, a gleam in his eyes that Oikawa had never seen. “You do understand that if Kuroo is harmed, you will be the first one accused.”

Oikawa said nothing, and Ushijima seemed to take that as a request to elaborate.

“The inmates know about your bond with Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima. “The guards as well, due to your recent indiscretion in the storage closet.”

Oikawa wondered if Ushijima had ever had a romp in that closet, or if he only knew of it from Tendou’s frequent visits.

“If you touch him,” said Ushijima, “you will be the one who suffers most. Your sentence will increase, and you will serve it in maximum security.” His face was a mask of solemnity. The slight breeze stirred his hair. “It is not a place for a man like you. You would not walk out the same person as you went in.”

Oikawa’s mouth curled. He wanted to insist that it was none of Ushijima’s business. He wanted to say that Ushijima didn’t know what he was talking about, that Oikawa knew exactly what he was doing.

But he couldn’t deny the wisdom of Ushijima’s advice, and kept the scathing remarks to himself.

“Thank you,” said Oikawa. He meant it, at least a little, and hated himself for it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do,” said Ushijima. “If you get into trouble, I will not be able to assist you.”

That was fine. Oikawa had only sought Ushijima’s help for Iwaizumi, not for himself. 

He would never accept it for himself.

Oikawa rose, and this time Ushijima didn’t stop him. After one more glance across the yard - Kuroo was in the exact same spot, blissfully unaware of the distant heat of Oikawa’s ire - he left the yard and escaped into the cool air of the prison. He barely noticed where he was going. The close walls were a blur on either side of him. They’d been stifling at first, as if they were shrinking a little more every day, but he was used to them, now. He paid no attention to them, or anything else, until he walked past the cafeteria.

He came to an abrupt stop a few paces later, belatedly realizing whom he’d just passed. He turned, slowly, to find Bokuto slumped against the wall by the cafeteria doors, arms folded tightly as if he was holding himself together, face turned toward the floor like a wilting flower. Oikawa didn’t know what method Bokuto used to keep his hair upright, but whatever it was, he’d obviously given it up. It hung around his face in a limp, ashy mess. He looked smaller like that, vulnerable.

Oikawa tried to drum up some anger. He should have some to spare, considering Bokuto was one of Kuroo’s allies, considering they’d teamed up to make Oikawa’s life hell. 

Bokuto glanced up at him, his golden eyes dull, and Oikawa couldn’t make himself feel angry.

“Hey, Oikawa,” said Bokuto. It was a mumble, much lower than his usual voice. He looked away immediately, as if maintaining eye contact was a strain. 

Oikawa took a shuffling step closer. “It’s a little early for dinner.”

Bokuto shrugged. It was a surprisingly small gesture, considering the size of his shoulders. “I’m getting my food now. I don’t want to eat with everyone else.”

Oikawa eyed him. That didn’t make sense, but he didn’t question it. 

“I’m sorry,” said Bokuto, his voice dropping even lower, “about Iwaizumi. I heard he got hurt pretty bad.”

“I don’t know why you would care,” said Oikawa flatly, “considering you and Kuroo have been conspiring against him. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Bokuto looked up at him again. Strands of hair fanned in front of his eyes, but he made no move to brush them away. “I didn’t want him to get hurt. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Bokuto frowned down at the floor. “We were just playing around, me and Kuroo. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt, either. He’s not a bad guy, not like everyone thinks. He was just having fun, you know?”

Oikawa squinted at him. “You can’t really think that.”

Bokuto peered up through his hair. “Of course I do. Kuroo is my friend.”

“Well your friend is a fucking sociopath.”

Bokuto shook his head. “No, he just… He gets carried away sometimes. He’s been in here a long time, I think it’s starting to mess with him.”

Iwaizumi had been in there for a long time too, and he wasn’t running around trying to kill anyone.

“I know how he can get, though,” said Bokuto, before Oikawa could say anything else. Bokuto idly kicked the heel of his shoe against the wall. “He’s kind of… intense, sometimes. I don’t like when he gets like that. It’s not him.”

Oikawa thought Bokuto had that backwards. Whatever nice guy persona he’d presented was the part of Kuroo that wasn’t really him. The sociopathic version was the true Kuroo. 

The cafeteria door opened and Akaashi slipped into the hallway, a paper bag in his hand. He gave Oikawa a look of complete impassivity before nudging Bokuto away from the doors. “Come on, Bokuto-san. Let’s get back to our block before your food gets cold.” He pressed the bag into Bokuto’s hand, and Bokuto took it with an almost-smile.

“Thanks, ‘Kaashi.”

As Bokuto started away, Akaashi looked back at Oikawa. There was nothing menacing about his face, which remained expressionless, but still there was an aura about him, one that gave the impression of danger. Oikawa couldn’t pin down the source, didn’t know if he wanted to.

“Do we have a problem, Oikawa-san?” asked Akaashi.

Oikawa considered him. He had a very big problem with Akaashi, one that he would like to take out in blood.

But Iwaizumi had told him to leave Akaashi out of this, and Oikawa had agreed. He wouldn’t go back on his word to Iwaizumi.

Besides, Akaashi was only a threat to them as long as Kuroo was.

“No,” said Oikawa. “We don’t.”

Akaashi gave him a nod and turned away, walking alongside Bokuto toward Block Four. Oikawa watched them go, thoughts churning, before turning to do the same. He made it all the way to the door of Block Two before he realized he was automatically returning to his cell. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but he knew he couldn’t bear sitting alone, staring at Iwaizumi’s empty bed. It would cloud his judgment, and he needed time to _think_.

He rerouted, and found himself staring blankly at the door of the broom closet. It was a stupid place to be. He knew that, but he was also at the point that he didn’t really care. He pressed an ear against the door, listening for any telltale signs that Tendou and Semi were still inside. It was quiet, and Oikawa pushed it open, carefully. 

There was no one there, and he slipped in. He sat against the wall with his head in his hands, body aching. His mind was spinning, and he let it go, his thoughts tilting in all directions, leading him down dark paths that cut off with sudden jagged edges.

There was a solution here, somewhere in the turmoil of his thoughts. He just needed to track it down, to shape it into something he could use.

The easiest choice would be to step back and do nothing. If Kuroo had made his point, it was possible he would leave Iwaizumi alone. If he came for Oikawa later, it could be dealt with then. Block One was always an option for him, if Iwaizumi got paroled. Ushijima would protect Oikawa, if he needed it.

He could, but Oikawa knew already that, much like Iwaizumi, he would take his chances in Block Two, no matter how bad things got. 

The most appealing option would be to corner Kuroo and beat him into a bloody pulp. If there was a chance of Kuroo snitching and getting Oikawa in trouble, then maybe Oikawa would just keep beating him until he was incapable of talking, or breathing. That was Oikawa’s preferred approach, and it would be what Kuroo deserved.

But as Ushijima had said, Sawamura would immediately know it had been Oikawa. He hadn’t been subtle about his concern for Iwaizumi, or his vendetta against Kuroo. He would get shipped off to max, and he had no idea how long he would be there. Certainly longer than two years, after assaulting a fellow inmate.

Physical retaliation was off-limits, for Oikawa’s own sake. With that option gone, he didn’t know what was left. 

There had to be something, some way to secure Iwaizumi’s safety, some way to make it clear to Kuroo that he couldn’t fuck around with Block Two with no consequences. Kuroo was smart, and he seemed to have built a perfect niche for himself here, but there had to be something Oikawa could exploit, some weakness that would bring him to his knees harder than any physical pain could have.

Oikawa sat in the corner of the broom closet longer than was safe. It was a miracle no one found him and dragged him down to solitary. Time drizzled by, and when he finally rose on stiff legs and made the trek to the cafeteria for dinner, he felt calm.

He had a plan, and he had to make it work.  
  
  
  
  
Dinner dragged. Oikawa counted the minutes, vaguely aware of the subdued conversation passing between his blockmates. He was more aware of Kuroo, sitting across the cafeteria, although he didn’t allow himself to look over. He still knew he was there, could feel him like a blur at the edge of his consciousness.

He was most aware of Kageyama, who’d been assigned cafeteria duty. He kept his stare on him the entire time, with hawk-like intensity, until Hinata bounced in to relieve him. They exchanged a few words, Kageyama started for the door, and Oikawa launched himself out of his seat to follow. 

He caught up to Kageyama outside of Block Three. Oikawa knew he shouldn’t be in that general area at all, but it wasn’t the first thing on his mind.

“Tobio-chan,” said Oikawa, injecting just the right amount of fake cheer into his voice. It was a strain. His anger still bubbled just beneath the surface of the friendly facade. "Just the man I wanted to see.”

Kageyama flew into a half-panic, just as he did every time Oikawa approached him. He looked back and forth, but didn’t seem very comforted to find that they were alone. “I’m not getting you into the infirmary, Oikawa-san.”

“Oh, no need for that,” said Oikawa, waving him off. His voice was normal, despite the black haze of bitterness clouding his thoughts. “I’ve already been there, no thanks to you. Iwaizumi is doing fine, thanks for asking.”

“Wh- how did you-”

“That’s confidential, and also not the point. I need you to do something for me, Tobio-chan. It’s a big favor, so just know that I’m not asking lightly.”

Kageyama was immediately defensive. “I’m not doing anything that’ll make me lose my job. I already told you.”

“I remember that,” said Oikawa. He smiled, and it felt as if it had been messily stitched onto his face. “I also remember that you were the one who helped me embezzle all that money. You do know if anyone knew about that, you could be slapped into a matching uniform and thrown right in here with me. Luckily for you, I think orange would match your complexion just fine.”

Kageyama looked like he’d been kicked in the gut. He checked the hallway again, eyes wide with panic. “Oikawa-san, please don’t-”

“I also remember,” said Oikawa, speaking over him, “when I was run through the mill at court, they said I might get a better deal if I sold out whoever was working with me. Do you know what I said, Tobio-chan? I said I did everything by myself, that there wasn’t another soul in this world who’d touched the books. I didn’t tell them that my faithful little assistant manager approved all of the mismatched transactions because I told him it was okay. I didn’t tell them that I slipped you an extra bonus every month for being such an obedient employee. You were just as guilty as I was, Tobio-chan. You would have gone down just as hard.”

Kageyama swallowed, his throat bobbing just above the high collar of his uniform. He touched his belt, fingers skimming over one of the pouches, but it was an subconscious gesture rather than a threatening one. He looked lost, like an orphaned fawn in the woods.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice barely scraping above a whisper. “I didn’t know what you were doing.”

“You should have. If you’d given it a moment’s thought, you would’ve figured it out. I hid it from everyone else, but I wasn’t subtle around you.” 

Kageyama shook his head, slowly. “I wouldn’t have taken that money if I’d known it was stolen.”

“But you did take it,” said Oikawa. “You took it, and now you’re just as liable. It doesn’t matter than I’ve already been convicted. That doesn’t mean you can’t go down for it, too. You have dirty money, Tobio-chan. That alone is enough to get you at least a year.”

Kageyama stared at him too long, completely immobile. A pair of inmates that Oikawa didn’t know wandered by, sparing the two of them only a passing glance before moving along. 

Kageyama only broke the press of silence to ask, “What do you want?”

There was a spark of relief in the midst of Oikawa’s dark tension. At least this hadn’t changed. Manipulating Kageyama had always been too easy. “I only need you to sneak in a couple of things for me, Tobio-chan. That’s all. After this, I’ll never ask you for anything else again. I promise.”

Kageyama seemed wary of that promise, until Oikawa told him what he needed. Then he was downright appalled.

“I can’t bring that in here,” he said. He tugged at his collar, as if it was suddenly choking him. “I’ll get fired. I won’t only get fired, I’ll get _arrested _. That’s a crime.”__

__“Oh, I know that. I also know if you don’t do it, you’ll get arrested for embezzling money with me. It’s your choice. If you do this the right way, you won’t get in trouble for anything. If you don’t even try, I’ll make sure you catch charges. Choose wisely.”_ _

__“Oikawa-san, please.” Kageyama looked wounded, like Oikawa had stabbed a knife straight through him. “Don’t ask me to do this.”_ _

__“I don’t have a choice. You’ll do this for me and I’ll forget I ever knew you. That’s my offer.”_ _

__Kageyama chewed at his lip, his brows collapsing inward. His hands were at either side of his belt, worrying at the faux leather._ _

__“You don’t have to decide right now,” said Oikawa sweetly. “You have all night. I need it tomorrow. Make it happen, Tobio-chan.”_ _

__“But Oikawa-”_ _

__“Do it.” Oikawa flicked a piece of hair out of his face and strode past Kageyama, back toward his cell block. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it. I’ll make sure of that.”_ _

__Kageyama made a sound, small and choked._ _

__Oikawa would have felt bad, if he’d had that luxury._ _

__He didn’t._ _

__He returned to Block Two, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he slept in a cell alone. He laid awake for most of the night, thinking in turns about what he was going to do the following day, and about Iwaizumi, sleeping in the infirmary._ _

__Iwaizumi wouldn’t be a victim anymore, and neither would Oikawa. He would make sure of that._ _


	12. Chapter 12

Oikawa had known Kageyama for a long while. They’d worked together at the bank for five years, which had been plenty of time for him to figure out the way Kageyama’s mind worked. That had been why he’d chosen him to sign off on the forged paperwork. He knew Kageyama wouldn’t catch on, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have ratted Oikawa out. He may have quit his job and gone to work elsewhere, but he wasn’t a snitch.

Neither was Oikawa. Even if Kageyama hadn’t pulled through, Oikawa had no intentions of attaching Kageyama’s name to his crimes. He would have continued to keep his mouth shut, but Kageyama didn’t know that.

When Oikawa saw him the next day, Kageyama looked like he hadn’t slept at all. He was noticeably twitchy, and when Oikawa called out to him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Breakfast had just ended. A herd of inmates drifted past, headed toward the yard. Oikawa had been headed in the opposite direction, intending to hunt down Kageyama, but running into him had rendered that unnecessary. 

Kageyama’s eyes darted from Oikawa to the crowd of inmates, his face drawn. He gestured for Oikawa to follow him, and didn’t say a word as he led them away from the main hallway. They ended up at the broom closet, and Kageyama shut them inside. He tried to secure the door, remembered there wasn’t a functional lock, and let his hand fall to his side uselessly.

“So, Tobio-chan?” asked Oikawa without preamble. There was no point faking formalities. Kageyama knew exactly what he was after. “Did you come through for me?”

Kageyama winced. His stare was distant. “Sawamura-san almost caught me. I set off the metal detector when I walked in and he had to pat me down and he… he almost…” Kageyama pressed his hands over his face and took a deep breath that made his shoulders shake. “It was right there, I don’t know how he missed it. If he’d found it-”

“But he didn’t,” said Oikawa. He placed a supportive hand on Kageyama’s shoulder and he flinched away. “It’s okay. You did it, it’s over. Oikawa-san will never ask you for another favor.”

Kageyama peered at him through his fingers. He looked just like the younger version of himself that Oikawa had first met, fresh out of college and unbelievably naive. Little had changed. “I can’t do this again.”

“You won’t have to.” Oikawa spoke softly, trying to comfort him. He couldn’t let Kageyama panic. It could have a negative impact on both of them. “I’m not trying to set up a smuggling ring here. I just need to take care of some business.”

Kageyama blinked up at him. “If you’re planning to kill someone-”

“Don’t you worry about that.” Oikawa patted his arm. “I won’t tell anyone you helped me, with this or with the bank. Your name will never leave my mouth again. You’re safe. Give me the stuff and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Kageyama dug into the edges of his boots and passed over the contraband. Oikawa thought that was an amateur hiding place, but he kept the criticism to himself. It had worked. There was no point complaining about it now.

He tucked the items into the waistband of his pants and settled his shirt over them. “Thank you, Tobio-chan. I owe you one.”

“Just stay away from me,” said Kageyama. His eyes were dull, fingers shaking slightly where they curled around the edges of his belt. “That will make us even.”

“Deal.” Oikawa gave him one more solid pat, paired with a sharp smile, before leaving the closet.

Kageyama didn’t immediately follow. He probably needed a moment to collect himself, and Oikawa wouldn’t take that away from him.

He’d gotten what he wanted. The first step of his plan had been a success. 

Now it was time to finish it.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa spent most of the day observing. 

He sat in the yard with Block Two, easily ignoring Hanamaki’s nagging about joining in on their card game. Normally he would have been annoyed enough to give in, but today it was all too easy for him to drown it out. He had more important things to focus on. One thing in particular.

That thing was on the basketball court, sweaty hair dripping into his eyes, a grin stamped across his face as he bounced into the air to take a shot. The ball sailed through the net-less rim easily, and Kuroo pumped a fist in the air. 

Two weeks ago when Block Three had been on the court, Bokuto had been out there with him, he and Kuroo teaming up to dominate the game. 

Today Bokuto was pacing along the walking path with his hands in his pockets and his head down, Akaashi walking idly at his side. It was the first time Bokuto had been out to the yard in a while, and Oikawa wondered if Akaashi had coerced him into the fresh air. Judging from the way Akaashi had taken care of him the day before, it was a reasonable assumption. Their steps were slow, and Bokuto was utterly downtrodden, hair falling to shade his eyes. He kept his attention pointedly away from the basketball court.

When the loop of the path brought the pair of them in front of the picnic tables, where Oikawa and the rest of Block Two sat, Bokuto glanced over automatically, as if he couldn’t help himself. When he found Oikawa staring back, he offered a weak, watery smile, but quickly lowered his head again. 

Akaashi met Oikawa’s eyes unflinchingly, expressionless, and only looked away when he and Bokuto had wandered past.

Oikawa waited to feel something; a touch of hatred, or frustration that Akaashi was off-limits. But he felt nothing for him, just as he’d felt nothing during their encounter the day before. His rage, all of it, was reserved for Kuroo.

“Hey,” said Oikawa, nudging Matsukawa beside him. “Did Bokuto and Kuroo have a falling out? I thought they were best friends.”

Matsukawa didn’t look away from his cards. “I don’t know. Haven’t noticed.”

Oikawa scanned the rest of them, hoping someone else had better information.

“Bokuto has episodes sometimes,” said Hanamaki, slapping a pair of cards face down in the middle of the table and drawing two more to replace them. “He gets all depressed and shit. That’s what it looks like to me. Usually Kuroo still has his back, though. It’s weird to see them not together, even when Bokuto is all fucked up.”

Oikawa knew there was more to it than that, but he didn’t say so. He tried to keep his questions casual, to avoid too much attention. He couldn’t let his blockmates to know he was planning something. He didn’t want them to be caught up in it, in case it all went wrong. “How long have they been here?”

“Bokuto is going on six or seven years, I think,” said Matsukawa. “He ran a stolen car through the middle of a crosswalk when he was wasted. Killed a few people. Fought the cops when they tried to arrest him.”

Oikawa studied Bokuto’s retreating back. He couldn’t picture it.

“Kuroo has been here as long as Iwaizumi,” said Hanamaki. He slid a glance to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Yahaba’s cards. “They got booked in on the same day. He killed someone too, but not because he was drunk. He killed them on purpose. Might’ve been more than one person, I don’t remember. All I know is he’s in here for life.”

That wasn’t the information Oikawa was fishing for, but it was something that he needed. With a sudden burst of clarity, he understood. He still hated Kuroo, but he knew why Kuroo acted the way that he did. It made sense, objectively speaking.

But he’d fucked with Iwaizumi, and Oikawa couldn’t look at that objectively.

“And Akaashi?” he added as an afterthought. “What did he do?”

Hanamaki gave him a sharp look. He confirmed Akaashi was far enough away that he couldn’t possibly overhear before answering. “Don’t let anyone hear you asking questions about him. He doesn’t like people in his business.” He fidgeted with his cards, and added more quietly, “He was a hitman, for some yakuza group. The guy who sold him out to the police got thrown in prison about a year later, and Akaashi cut his throat in the yard.” Hanamaki pointed. “This yard. Right over there, actually. I wasn’t here yet, but Iwaizumi was. He remembers it. They sent Akaashi to max for five years after that. He only got back a few months ago.”

Oikawa sat back to think about that. He understood now why Iwaizumi had told him not to mess with Akaashi. It had been good advice.

He realized, after the others had returned to the game, that he was being watched. 

Kindaichi had already lost this hand and was waiting for the next, his elbows propped on the table. “Are you alright, Oikawa-san?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” said Oikawa brightly. “Never better.”

It was a lie. Both of them knew it, but Kindaichi didn’t pry. Oikawa liked that about him.

Oikawa returned to his observations, the gears of his mind turning more smoothly.

  
  
  
  
  
Afternoon bled into evening. Everyone went inside to dinner, but Oikawa lagged behind, still watching.

Kuroo was surrounded by his Block Three friends, talking and laughing as if he hadn’t recently orchestrated a stabbing.

Oikawa wanted to do it now, but the group of them stuck together on the way to the cafeteria, and remained that way when they left.

Oikawa didn’t taste his dinner as he ate. He didn’t have the attention to spare for it. He slept alone again that night, the opposite side of his cell painfully vacant. He wondered how Iwaizumi was doing, but he didn’t think he could get by with slipping into the infirmary again, no matter how badly he wanted to check on him. Ukai would know he’d done it on purpose, and he would tell Sawamura. Oikawa didn’t think Sawamura would be lenient with him anymore.

Besides, he was never asking Semi to hit him again. That hadn’t been his brightest idea. 

The following morning went smoothly. Oikawa had breakfast, showered in the Block One bathroom, and endured Tendou’s usual taunts. He was so caught up in his own head that it was easy to ignore him, and everyone else. Ushijima spoke to him, as polite as ever, and Oikawa had responded, although now he couldn’t remember what he’d said. The details of the past couple of days were slipping away from him, his hyperfocus painting the background in dull shades of gray. All he could focus on was Kuroo, and the plan he’d pieced together to deal with him.

After his morning shower, Oikawa went back to his cell to drop off his shower supplies and pick up his contraband. He tucked it carefully into the edge of his pants, his back toward the door in case a guard passed by. When he was satisfied, he wandered back into the hallway, intending to head for the yard and watch Kuroo for the duration of the morning, waiting for an opening.

He didn’t even make it outside. 

As he rounded the corner past Block Two, the back of Kuroo’s head disappeared into a nearby doorway. Belatedly, Oikawa realized he’d entered the gym, and Oikawa could have slapped himself for not thinking of that sooner.

Kuroo and Bokuto usually worked out together. Since they were no longer speaking, as far as Oikawa could tell, that meant Kuroo would either have to stop going to the gym, find a new partner, or go alone.

Oikawa sidled up to the doors and peered through the thick glass.

Judging from the vacant state of the equipment, it seemed Kuroo had settled on the final option. 

Oikawa checked the hallway. There were a few remaining inmates wandering toward the exit to the yard, but most had already made their way outside. A guard or two would be posted out there too, to prevent any prison yard scuffles. Another would be posted in the cafeteria to supervise as some of the inmates cleaned up, and another few guards would be walking rounds through the halls.

This wasn’t the best place, but Oikawa didn’t think he could lure Kuroo anywhere more secluded. Kuroo was too smart to fall for that. Oikawa would have to do it now and hope for the best.

He eased the door to the gym open, slipped inside, and gently let it shut again. Kuroo, who was picking through the weight selection, didn’t turn around.

Oikawa surveyed the room again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything or anyone. If Iwaizumi hadn’t been hurt, he would be here too, but not for the same reason. It was their usual workout day. He and Iwaizumi would have followed their normal routine, peppered with lingering touches and suggestive comments murmured in low, honeyed voices.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t there, and the reason for that was across the room, oblivious to Oikawa’s presence.

Oikawa threaded his way through the handful of equipment, keeping his steps light. He patted the waistband of his pants, reassured by the metal weight tucked against his hip. He came to a stop just as Kuroo turned with a dumbbell in each hand, offering no indication of surprise when he found Oikawa staring back.

“Oikawa-kun.” Kuroo grinned, and it seemed genuine. It was only when Oikawa looked closer, at the tightness pulling at the corners of his eyes, that he concluded the expression was forced. “Haven’t seen you in here lately. Guess you don’t like working out if Iwaizumi isn’t here to hold your hand, huh?”

That he was bold enough to say Iwaizumi’s name to Oikawa’s face, as if he wasn’t the reason Iwaizumi was laid up in the infirmary, sent a pulse of rage from Oikawa’s chest all the way to his fingertips. He wanted to lash out, to beat that grin right off of Kuroo’s face, but he bit his tongue and held himself back. He couldn’t do that, he knew he couldn’t.

That wasn’t the way to win this war that Kuroo had started. 

“Don’t you worry about that,” said Oikawa. He smiled back, and felt his face would crack in half. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo’s eye twitched at the sound of his truncated name, but he otherwise didn’t react. Oikawa had asked Matsukawa the night before if he knew Kuroo’s given name. Knowledge was power, and knowing this gave Oikawa an edge.

“Good to know.” The teasing curl had gone out of Kuroo’s voice. “If you’ll excuse me, Oikawa-kun, I have a workout to get to. Don’t want to wither away in here, right?”

He started to move past, but Oikawa planted a hand in the center of Kuroo’s chest to stop him. “I’m not finished, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo scuffed a step back, and the grin fell away from his face. Oikawa realized that the only time he’d seen him like this, completely serious, was when Iwaizumi had stopped him from shaving Oikawa’s head.

Back then, Oikawa would never have imagined they would end up like this. 

Kuroo’s muscles shifted as he adjusted the dumbbells in his hands, hanging at his sides. Oikawa was very aware that if Kuroo swung at him with one of those, it would knock him out, or worse.

That didn’t matter. Kuroo wouldn’t. There would be no way to cover it up, the way he’d covered up his involvement in Iwaizumi’s attack. Kuroo wasn’t stupid; quite the opposite.

“I know what you did,” said Oikawa. The silence that followed the accusation was solid. The hum of the air conditioner was the only soundtrack to the confrontation. “You didn’t hurt him yourself, but you made it happen.”

Kuroo smiled. The curve of his mouth was sharp, golden eyes going narrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you? I’m sure Akaashi does. He’s the one you talked into doing it, isn’t he?”

Kuroo hummed to himself. “Sorry, I don’t know anyone named Akaashi.”

Oikawa’s hands twitched with the urgent need to ball into fists. “I’m not an idiot, Tetsu-chan. I know what you did, and I know why. I also know you won’t be satisfied because you won’t get what you want. Iwaizumi won’t retaliate. He’ll keep his head down and get out, and the thought of that drives you insane, doesn’t it?”

Kuroo’s jaw went tight. “Why would I care if he gets out or not?”

“Because you’re jealous,” said Oikawa. It was a conclusion he’d come to only the day before, but he was certain that he was right. “You and Iwaizumi came in together. He’ll get out of this place and have a life, and you’ll rot behind these walls. It’s not fair to you, is it? That you threw your life away but he still gets another chance.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know enough. I know you were trying to find a way to make him fuck up and blow his parole. You thought fucking with me would be enough to set him off. When that didn’t work, you went straight for him instead. You’re hoping that once he gets out of the infirmary, he’ll retaliate and get himself in trouble. That’s your plan, right? You had Akaashi do it because you didn’t want to kill Iwaizumi by accident, and Akaashi is experienced. He knew how to hurt him without making it lethal.” Oikawa took a steadying breath. He had to keep his anger in check, limited to a low simmer rather than a rolling boil. “I’ve known people like you, Tetsu-chan. I know how you think.”

Kuroo laughed, low and gruff, devoid of humor. He dropped his dumbbells onto the nearest weight bench and stalked closer. Oikawa stood at his full height, unmoving. Kuroo was taller, but not by much. Oikawa thought most of the difference was Kuroo’s crown of hair.

“Let me tell you something,” said Kuroo. He tilted his head to study Oikawa, so close that his face consumed Oikawa’s field of vision. “You don’t know anything about me, newbie. I barely even remember what it felt like, being out of here. That’s how long it’s been. I’ll never know any different, either. _This_ -” He took a step back, gesturing widely at the walls around them- “is the only home I’ll ever have. It’s all I’ve got. You’ll be in and out of here in no time, and you’ll try and forget it ever happened.” He swooped close to Oikawa again, eyes piercing. “That’s not how it works for all of us. This is all we have. So you can back the fuck off pretending to know what I’m thinking, because you have no idea.”

If this had been anyone else, Oikawa may have felt bad for them. Kuroo had a bleak future ahead of him, despite what he’d done to earn it.

But Kuroo had hurt Iwaizumi, and Oikawa had no sympathy to spare.

“You’re going to leave us alone,” said Oikawa. “Me, and Iwaizumi, and everyone else in Block Two. Don’t bother us. Don’t speak to us. Don’t even _look_ at us the wrong way.”

Kuroo’s teeth flashed. “What do you think you can do about it, newbie?” His hand twitched toward his waistband, so subtle that it may have been involuntary. “You looking to fight?”

Oikawa had been waiting for that. He lunged forward before Kuroo could move, snatching at the waistband of his own pants with one hand, shoving the other into Kuroo’s chest and forcing him back. Kuroo stumbled, his reaction delayed by surprise. Clearly he hadn’t expected Oikawa to take the bait. 

Sharp nails dug into Oikawa’s forearm but he pushed harder, until Kuroo’s back hit the wall. Oikawa flicked his wrist and a sleek _snick_ sound made Kuroo go stiff. A blade was at his throat in an instant, unwavering in Oikawa’s steady hand. Oikawa tightened his grip in the front of Kuroo’s shirt and said, his voice a snarl, “I’ll fight, if that’s what you want. I’ll win, too. I promise you that.”

Kuroo angled his head to the side, following the line of Oikawa’s arm. “Is that a fucking _switchblade_?”

Oikawa pressed the thin edge against the skin of Kuroo’s neck. It was so sharp that it sliced with the barest touch, a drop of blood gathering on the blade and drizzling down Kuroo’s throat.

“Yes,” said Oikawa, with surprising composure. “It is. And if I catch even a glimpse of whatever shitty ass shank you have hidden away, I’ll cut your throat wide open with it.”

The air conditioner continued to hum, but Oikawa couldn’t hear it through the deafening sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Slowly, Kuroo let his hand fall away from his waistband to dangle at his side. “How did you even get that?”

“I might be a newbie, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless.” Oikawa pressed the blade closer, just barely. Kuroo flinched back and his skull bumped against the concrete wall. “I have access to whatever I want, better connections than you’ll ever have. You don’t know anything about me either, Tetsu-chan.”

“I know you won’t kill me,” said Kuroo. He sounded confident, but the way his eyes continuously flicked down to Oikawa’s wrist said otherwise. “You’d never get out of here, then.”

“Maybe I don’t care,” said Oikawa. “Maybe it would be worth it.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed in skepticism.

“Or maybe you’re right,” said Oikawa, easing the blade back. “I’m not planning to kill you, the same way you didn’t plan to kill Iwaizumi.”

“What, then?” said Kuroo. “Want to leave me a nice scar to remember you by? That’s what Iwaizumi got. You’re pissed off about it, but I know he wasn’t hurt that bad.”

“That’s what I’ll say to you, after I jab this between Bokuto’s ribs,” said Oikawa, flashing the blade in front of Kuroo’s face. The edge was dipped in a thin sheen of crimson. “It might not kill him. Then again, I’m not like Akaashi. I’ve never stabbed anyone before. I might hit something important by mistake.”

Kuroo’s expression went blank, all at once. “Why would I care what happens to Bokuto? He doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Here I was, thinking you were a good liar,” said Oikawa. “Say that again, Tetsu-chan. Try to mean it this time.”

“It’s the truth,” said Kuroo. He glanced at the blade again, where it had returned to hover near his throat. “I don’t care about him.”

“Then this threat means nothing to you.” Oikawa shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, then. I’ll tell him what you just said when I leave him lying in a back hallway. That’s what he can think about, while he’s waiting to see if a guard finds him before he bleeds out. He’ll think about how his old friend Kuroo knew it was going to happen and didn’t bother saving him.” He lowered the blade, but kept it in his hand as he backed up. “But if you don’t care about him, that shouldn’t bother you.” He turned, keeping Kuroo in his field of vision until the last possible second. When he started toward the door it was slowly, keeping his steps quiet so he could hear if Kuroo started after him.

He didn’t make it halfway across the small gym before Kuroo spoke. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have what it takes to stab someone. If you did, you’d just come at me instead.”

Oikawa stopped, swiveled back around to face him. “I’m not stupid, Tetsu-chan. Sawamura would be all over me if something happened to you. Bokuto, though… There’s no reason for me to hurt Bokuto. No one would suspect a thing.” He smiled, and it was sharper than the blade clutched between his fingers. “Maybe I don’t have what it takes. I certainly didn’t, before I came here. I think I do, now. I think you’ve made me angry enough that I could do anything to anyone. Believe me or not, I couldn’t care less. You’ll see soon enough.”

Oikawa didn’t know what his face looked like just then, but it must have been wild enough to convince Kuroo of his sincerity.

“You know Bo didn’t have anything to do with this,” said Kuroo. He hadn’t moved from his place against the wall and hadn’t reached for his shank. “He didn’t even know it was going to happen. He was upset when he found out.”

“I know. I also don’t care.” Oikawa twirled the switchblade between his fingers, Kuroo’s eyes tracking the gleam of it. “I don’t even care about any of the shit you did to me. None of that matters. You hurt someone I care about, Tetsu-chan, so I’ll do the same to you. That will make us even.”

“I just said I don’t care about him.”

“I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

He turned away, and almost made it out of the room this time.

“Oikawa, wait.”

Oikawa paused with his arm outstretched toward the door, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. He wiped it away before looking over his shoulder. “What?”

Kuroo licked his lips. He still hadn’t moved. “If you go after Bo, Akaashi will go after you. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

“You think he’ll come for me?” asked Oikawa, a smirk touching his mouth and his voice. “When I tell him about this conversation, I don’t think it will be me he’s after, Tetsu-chan. I’m guessing his motivation for jumping Iwaizumi wasn’t because the two of you share a deep, unbreakable friendship. It was business, right? You gave him a good reason. After this, he’ll have a good reason to turn on you, when he finds out you knew and didn’t stop it.”

There was a beat of silence. Kuroo was trying to think his way out of this situation; Oikawa saw the struggle on his face. After a tense, dragging minute, Kuroo said, “What do you want?”

Grim satisfaction overlapped Oikawa’s muted anger. “I want you to stay as far away from Iwaizumi as physically possible. You won’t touch him. You won’t have anyone else touch him.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything, just waited.

“And when he gets out,” said Oikawa, “you’ll leave the rest of us alone, too. The whole Block. I don’t give a fuck what you do over on your side of the prison, but you’ll leave us out of it.”

Golden eyes darted to the switchblade again before fixing on Oikawa’s face. “Or I can just go tell Sawamura about all this. He’ll believe me. He always believes me.”

“Go ahead, then. He’ll throw me in solitary for a week, at worst. I’ll be right back out, and it won’t change anything.” He flicked the blade in Kuroo’s direction. “I can get another one of these, easy. I’ll go straight for Bokuto, and I’ll tell the whole prison you snitched me out. I might be new, but I do know bad things happen to snitches, right, Tetsu-chan?”

Kuroo’s mouth pulled into a flat line. “What’s stopping me from just getting rid of you, then? Maybe you’ll have an unfortunate accident.”

“Maybe I will,” said Oikawa, undaunted. “And maybe Ushijima will have a problem with that. Surely you’ve noticed that he and I are friends now. You’re stupid enough to cross Iwaizumi, but you’ve never gotten in Ushijima’s way. Even a newbie like me knows that. If something happens to me, Ushijima will take care of it, and you won’t like the outcome.”

None of that was true. Ushijima had told him the day before that he wasn’t willing to protect Oikawa as long as he was in Block Two.

But Kuroo didn’t know that.

Despite the conversation, despite the threats, Kuroo almost seemed impressed. “I think I underestimated you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa smiled. It was fake, a shallow slice across his face. “Most people do.”

“I won’t make that mistake again.” Kuroo pushed a handful of hair away from his face, studying Oikawa with both uncovered eyes. His stare was more intense that way, acute and piercing. “I’ll back off.”

“Not just Iwaizumi,” Oikawa repeated. “The whole Block.”

“Yeah, sure. The whole Block.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, seeking any sign of deceit. He saw none. “As long as I’m here, it’s in your best interest not to change your mind.”

Kuroo nodded. “I won’t.” He didn’t sound as if he was only trying to appease Oikawa. He sounded serious.

Oikawa took a breath. He had no choice but to believe him and hope he was genuine. It wasn’t the most comforting resolution, but it was all he had. “You’ll have no trouble from me, then. Enjoy your workout, Tetsu-chan.” He waved goodbye with the switchblade before retracting it and tucking it back into his waistband. Kuroo’s eyes followed it until it was out of sight. Oikawa pushed open the door of the gym, started to step out, but hesitated. He turned back and asked, “None of this was Akaashi’s fight. How did you talk him into doing it?”

“Does it matter?”

Oikawa shrugged. “I’m only curious.”

He was certain Kuroo wouldn’t answer. He had no reason to. 

Kuroo surprised him.

“He owed me a favor,” said Kuroo. He spoke more quietly, as if afraid someone would overhear. “While he was in max, he asked me to keep an eye on Bo. I kept him out of trouble. Akaashi pays his debts.”

That explained the closeness between Bokuto and Akaashi. They must have been friends before Akaashi got sent away, before he’d murdered one of his fellow inmates in the yard. Bokuto was too sincere for his own good. He would have been a good target, easy to take advantage of, unless he was under someone’s protection.

Despite Oikawa’s problems with Kuroo, he couldn’t deny that Kuroo had built a solid reputation. He was no Ushijima, and he would never have Iwaizumi’s dignity, but he’d done well for himself here. That was fine. Kuroo could do whatever he wanted, as long as he left Block Two out of it.

Oikawa left the gym, and though part of him expected Kuroo to follow and scream for a guard, to tell them that Oikawa had an illegal weapon, the hallway remained silent as Oikawa went back to his cell to hide the switchblade.

He could have accomplished the same thing with a typical prison shank, maybe. It was possible that Kuroo would have still listened to him, that he would have still respected his threats.

Despite the risk, for himself and Kageyama, this had been the best way. Tendou had told him a while back that a man’s shank said a lot about him. Of all the stupid things Tendou said, that one had stuck with him, and Oikawa had chosen to listen. If having a nice shank made someone more intimidating, then wielding a switchblade that would have been illegal even on the outside should raise his prison status even higher. If Kuroo thought Oikawa had connections on the outside, that he had the power to smuggle in anything he wanted, he was more likely to respect him enough to make a deal.

He only hoped Kuroo kept his end of the bargain. Oikawa didn’t want to stab Bokuto, but he would. If it was for Iwaizumi, he thought he would do just about anything.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been so much fun for me, and that's mostly because of you guys! Thanks for reading, and for all the kudos and comments. I've really enjoyed talking to you all about it! <3 
> 
> This is a series now, so if you're curious about the Bokuto/Akaashi backstory, the rest of Tactics will be posted soon!
> 
> I'll be starting a new tensemi multi-chap fic next Saturday, so if you're interested in that, stick around!

Iwaizumi was released from the infirmary two days later. During that time, Oikawa experienced his most peaceful hours since arriving at the prison. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder in fear of being attacked, by Kuroo or anyone else. He didn’t know what Kuroo had said about him, but it seemed that many of the other inmates had suddenly decided to keep their distance from Oikawa. The only acknowledgement that he received from Block Three during that time was when Kuroo offered him a courteous nod when they nearly ran into each other in the breakfast line.

It was nice. Oikawa thought maybe his sentence wouldn’t be so bad if things continued on like this.

He’d ducked inside to use the bathroom and was heading back out to the yard when he saw him, walking at a slow pace down the hallway, his left arm held closely against his side. He stopped when he saw Oikawa, and when he smiled, it wasn’t just by half.

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s eyes scrunched at the corners from the stretch of his smile. “You’re alive.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “I knew you wouldn’t let me rest if I died.”

“You were right.” Oikawa drew closer, studying him. Iwaizumi didn’t look bad, considering. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and a darker one on his jaw from his inability to shave, but other than that, he was the same. “You look good for a man who was stabbed.”

“What a compliment.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. He moved closer, brushing against Oikawa’s shoulder, and stared out the window at the yard. He didn’t have to say who he was looking for. Oikawa knew. “What kind of bullshit has Kuroo been up to?”

Oikawa stepped up beside him, although he didn’t look out the window. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Iwaizumi. “Don’t worry about him. It’s taken care of.”

“What do you mean, taken care of?”

“I mean he won’t mess with you anymore. Any of us. Don’t worry about it, Hajime.”

“The fuck did you-”

“Want to go for a walk? I have a present for you.”

Iwaizumi’s stare narrowed into a glare. Oikawa expected him to protest, to demand an answer, but Iwaizumi gave in with a sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”

They went out to the yard together, and the sunlight was suddenly brighter, with Iwaizumi there. The basketball court, reserved for Block Two that day, erupted into a cheer when Iwaizumi stepped outside. He raised a hand in acknowledgment and staked out a slow pace around the walking path alongside Oikawa. 

Oikawa scanned the yard for guards. The only one there was Kageyama, and he wasn’t a concern. Oikawa slipped a small box out of the waistband of his pants and pressed it into Iwaizumi’s hand with a smile. 

Iwaizumi stopped walking to stare at it, then looked up at Oikawa, skeptical. “How the fuck did you get menthol cigarettes?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Anything for you, Hajime. Here, Mattsun gave me some matches.”

Iwaizumi glanced toward Kageyama, who was looking everywhere but at the pair of them. Oikawa didn’t mention that it was the guard himself who’d smuggled the cigarettes in, alongside the switchblade that was tucked away inside a freshly cut hole in Oikawa’s mattress. He didn’t plan to mention the switchblade at all.

Iwaizumi struck a match to light his cigarette. He tucked it between his lips and inhaled, eyes falling closed in smoky bliss. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“You really should quit, though,” said Oikawa. “It’s bad for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Iwaizumi tapped off a bit of ash. “When I get out I’m not smoking anymore. I’ll have better shit to spend my money on.”

Thinking about that was bittersweet. Oikawa didn’t want Iwaizumi to go, but he’d made sure there wouldn’t be any barriers standing in his way. Iwaizumi deserved to have a life, even if Oikawa was unable to be part of it.

“Tell me about Kuroo,” said Iwaizumi. He offered the cigarette to Oikawa, who took an obligatory puff before passing it back. 

Oikawa breathed out the smoke without inhaling. He wasn’t about to choke on it and look like an idiot in front of Iwaizumi. “He and I had a talk.” Oikawa started walking again, keeping his pace slow for Iwaizumi’s sake. “We reached an understanding. He’ll mind his own business from now on. He won’t be a problem.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I have a very effective bargaining chip.” Oikawa smiled and nudged his elbow against Iwaizumi’s. “It's been handled.”

“Do I even want to know what you did?”

“Probably not.”

Iwaizumi huffed a breath that was half-smoke, half-laugh. “He’s still in one piece, so at least you didn’t do anything completely stupid.”

“Of course I didn’t. I would never.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “As long as he stays away from you, that’s all that matters.”

“You have that the wrong way around. As long as he stays away from _you_. You’re safe, I’m safe, the whole Block is safe. Don’t lose any sleep over it.”

“You know not to trust him, right?”

“I know. But I also know he’ll stick to the deal. Don’t you trust me?”

Iwaizumi eyed him, frowning around his cigarette. He exhaled and said, voice low, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“With you around, I’ll always have something to worry about.”

“Good thing I won’t be around much longer, then,” said Oikawa. “Once you’re out, I won’t be your problem anymore.”

They passed by the picnic tables, the nearest of which housed a handful of the Block Three inmates. Kuroo glanced up as they passed by, studied them for a few tense seconds before tilting a nod in their direction. He dismissed the pair of them to tune back into Bokuto’s animated story. Bokuto’s arm flailed in his excitement, nearly hitting Kuroo in the face, but Kuroo simply ducked beneath the blow and propped his elbows on the table with a grin. Akaashi sat nearby, on Bokuto’s other side. He’d brought a book with him. He seemed focused on the pages, but glanced up long enough to reply to Bokuto whenever a statement was directed toward him. 

Oikawa hadn’t been so sure that Bokuto and Kuroo would be fast friends again, considering the circumstances, but it appeared they’d mended their bridges. That was convenient for Oikawa. It meant his threat against Bokuto’s safety was still valid, that his bargaining chip was still in play.

Iwaizumi dropped his finished cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. He tucked his hands in his pockets, and they walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “You know I won’t go out there and forget about you, right?”

Oikawa didn’t respond. Of course he would be forgotten. 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi nudged his shoulder. “I’ll try and forget about a lot of the shit I’ve seen in here, but not you. I’ll never forget about you.”

“You’ve known me for two months,” said Oikawa, “out of ten years. That’s nothing.”

“Think what you want.” Iwaizumi rubbed at his side, a slight tic of his jaw the only suggestion that he felt any pain. “You’re fucking wrong, but whatever. I’ll send you the dumbest fucking letters while you’re in here. I’ll write about the weather or some shit.”

Oikawa smiled despite himself. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I know. I will anyway.”

Quiet fell between them as they walked. Oikawa thought Iwaizumi would keep to his word for a few months, but it wouldn’t last. He would be on the outside with the whole world at his disposal. The last thing he needed to waste his time on was an inmate he barely knew at a prison he wanted to forget about. It wouldn’t last, and Oikawa wouldn’t be disappointed. He understood.

“I’ll get a place to stay,” said Iwaizumi. “Maybe not a nice place, at first, but I’ll work on that. I’ll get a job somewhere and get some stability. It might take a while before I can carve out a place for myself, but I’ll do it as fast as I can. Two years is plenty of time. When you get out, you’ll have a place to go, if you need it. In my bed, if you want. On my couch if you don’t, until you can find something better.”

Oikawa took a breath, deep enough to fill his lungs nearly to the point of bursting. He held back the warmth of his emotions. He couldn’t let himself react to this, not in the way that he wanted to. It sounded good – great, even – but two years was a long time. A lot of things would change in Iwaizumi’s life between now and then. Oikawa couldn’t hold him to a promise that he made now, while he was still in prison. It wasn’t fair. “That sounds nice, Hajime.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.”

Iwaizumi must have sensed his doubt. “I’ll prove it to you, two years from now. You’ll see.”

Oikawa smiled. “Okay.”

  
  
  
  
  
Iwaizumi’s parole hearing was a few days later. He thought it went well, but the decision wasn’t immediate. There was still more waiting to do. After ten years of it, Iwaizumi shouldn’t have been bothered, but he admitted to Oikawa that one day now felt like an entire month compared to the beginning of his sentence. He said time had started to pass differently, especially around the eight year mark. Oikawa was relieved he wouldn’t be around long enough to experience that change.

Two weeks after the hearing, Sawamura showed up for morning roll call. There was a nauseous twist of anxiety in Oikawa’s gut, a reminder of what had happened last time Sawamura had visited them at such an early hour.

This time it wasn’t to distribute shower assignments.

Sawamura waited until most of the other Block Two inmates had dispersed for breakfast before approaching the last cell on the left, where Iwaizumi and Oikawa waited. He slipped a letter out of his back pocket and offered it to Iwaizumi, who took it after a slight hesitation.

“What’s this?” asked Iwaizumi, although he must have known. The official envelope was proof enough that it was something important.

“Your parole decision,” said Sawamura. He glanced at Oikawa, as if expecting him to walk away and give Iwaizumi some privacy, but didn’t protest when he remained in place. “I thought I’d hand-deliver it, instead of throwing it in your mail.”

Iwaizumi stared down at the letter, as if trying to read it through the thick envelope. “Thanks.”

Sawamura stayed where he was, waiting. A minute passed, then two, and he said, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Iwaizumi tapped one end of the letter against his palm, thinking. He glanced sideways at Oikawa, who offered him a smile. “If it’s a denial, I’d rather not.”

Sawamura shrugged. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Iwaizumi continued staring at the letter, long enough that Oikawa considered ripping it out of his hands and opening it himself.

Finally, Iwaizumi pulled at the edge of the envelope, tearing through it with a curled finger. He extracted the paper inside, took a bracing breath, and carefully unfolded it. His eyes flicked across the page, soaking in the words, grip tightening to crumple the edge of the paper. When he looked up, it wasn’t at Sawamura. There was an openness about his face when he turned to Oikawa, shock blowing his eyes wide.

“They gave me parole.”

If it had been anyone else, Oikawa would have been bitter. This was not in his best interest. His life would have been easier if Iwaizumi stayed, because learning to navigate prison without him was not something Oikawa was looking forward to. 

But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Iwaizumi, and for the first time, Oikawa cared more about someone else than himself.

“Of course they did,” said Oikawa. His smile was genuine. He itched to reach out to Iwaizumi, but Sawamura was still standing there, wearing his own, more subdued grin. “They would be stupid not to.”

Iwaizumi glanced at the letter again, as if confirming he hadn’t misread it. “Two weeks,” he said, eyes still skimming. “My release date is in two weeks.”

“We’ll have everything ready to go for you,” said Sawamura. He clapped a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Your parole officer will be here to meet you before then. They’ll set you up with housing assistance and help you get a job and all that. I’m here too, if you ever need anything. Just give me a call.” He wasn’t saying it as an expected courtesy. He said it as if he meant it.

Iwaizumi nodded, not quite looking at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth. “Thanks, Sawamura.”

Sawamura squeezed Iwaizumi’s shoulder and let his hand fall away. “Congratulations, Iwaizumi. Oikawa is right. They would’ve been stupid not to grant it. You deserve it.”

He left the cell, and Oikawa listened to the sound of his retreating boots until they were out of range. There was a low murmur of voices from the guard station at the front of the Block, probably Sawamura speaking to Tanaka. Their conversation was the least of Oikawa’s concern.

He flung himself at Iwaizumi, throwing his arms around his shoulders instead of his waist, where his healing injury was still sensitive. Iwaizumi’s arm curled around his back, paper crunching in his fist. He held Oikawa close, breath warm against his jaw.

“I knew you’d get it,” said Oikawa. He spoke quietly, because they were so close that there was no need to raise his voice. “I knew you would.”

“That makes one of us,” said Iwaizumi. 

“You should have more confidence in yourself, Hajime,” said Oikawa. “You’ll need it, once you get out there.”

Iwaizumi huffed and pulled back, but he didn’t go far. His arms were a loose loop around Oikawa’s waist, tethering him in place. “I’ll miss you, you know that? I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Oikawa smiled. They’d had this conversation already and he wasn’t about to ruin Iwaizumi’s good news with his doubts. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Iwaizumi pulled him in, and Oikawa went willingly. Iwaizumi’s mouth was warm, and Oikawa absorbed as much heat as he could get. 

He only had two weeks left with Iwaizumi. He would enjoy them while he could.

  
  
  
  
  
When Oikawa had first arrived to prison, the days had dragged. Time was different in there, like it was an alternate dimension. The first two weeks had felt like a solid year.

Apparently the dimension had shifted again, because the next two weeks leading up to Iwaizumi’s release date felt like a day and a half.

Oikawa knew it had been two weeks. He recalled every meal, every lights out, every afternoon spent in the yard with his blockmates. He knew all fourteen days had happened, but they’d blurred by so quickly that it seemed impossible.

It had been the opposite for Iwaizumi. He’d been restless the entire time, fidgeting in a way that was uncharacteristic of him. His fingers were always drumming on the table, or his leg was bouncing, or he was picking at his nails with an intensity that made Oikawa wince. He was itching to get out, and Oikawa couldn’t blame him. He would be doing the same, if he’d been cooped up in there for ten years.

Iwaizumi already had a place to live. It was a cramped apartment in a questionable neighborhood, but it was better than nothing. His parole officer had made arrangements for him, and the first three months of rent would be covered through some nonprofit program Oikawa had never heard of.

If Oikawa ever got back on his feet and started making extra money again, he was going to donate everything he could spare to that program.

“When they cash out my commissary, I’ll have enough to buy food for a couple weeks. I should have a job by then, if everything goes okay,” said Iwaizumi, the morning of his release. He wouldn’t get processed out until noon. Unlike every day since he’d gotten his letter, he was no longer fidgety. He was eerily calm, pressed against Oikawa in his bed, which had definitely not been built to accommodate two large men. It was cramped, but Oikawa wasn’t complaining. He could never be too close. 

They’d gone to breakfast and morning showers, but had returned to their cell afterward instead of following the rest of the Block out to the yard. Oikawa was pleased that Iwaizumi wanted to be with him during his last few hours.

“Just show up to Sawamura’s house for dinner,” said Oikawa, smiling against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “He would act all offended, but you know he would feed you.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “If I’m ever desperate enough to beg Sawamura for help, I might as well just come back. There’s no point living out there if I can’t make it on my own.”

“Don’t you dare come back here, Hajime.”

“I don’t plan on it.” One of his hands was in Oikawa’s hair, idly threading through it. The other was tangled with Oikawa’s long fingers. 

“I’ll miss you,” said Oikawa. They’d already exchanged that sentiment, more than once, but he couldn’t keep the words to himself.

“Yeah, you too.” 

Oikawa still didn’t think that was true, but still he wasn’t going to argue. That wasn’t how he wanted Iwaizumi to remember him. “Drink a beer for me when you get out, in my honor.”

“No fucking way. I’ll drink a whiskey for you. Beer is shit.”

Oikawa breathed a laugh. “That’s fair.”

The conversation hit a lull, and it was peaceful, comfortable. Oikawa remembered when he’d first arrived and had been terrified to sleep in the same cell as Iwaizumi. Things had changed.

“You take care of yourself in here,” said Iwaizumi. Oikawa was lying so close that he felt the rumble of his voice. “Don’t get caught up in anything stupid and drag your time out. Keep an eye on Kuroo, too. He’s been too quiet lately. I don’t trust him.”

Oikawa wasn’t worried about Kuroo, but he still hadn’t explained to anyone exactly what he’d done, and he didn’t want to do it now, either. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one who needs to be careful. It’s a crazy world out there. Lots of opportunities to get tossed back in here. Just ask Semi.”

“Semi came back on purpose, because it was easier than living on the outside.” Iwaizumi curled an arm around Oikawa, pulled him closer. “I’m not making that mistake. I’m not coming back, and the only thing I regret about that is that it’ll be so long before I see you again.”

“Makki is getting out in a few months,” said Oikawa. “You can meet up with him. He’s more entertaining than I am.”

“Tooru.”

Oikawa tilted his chin up to meet Iwaizumi’s stare. 

“You know it’s different,” said Iwaizumi quietly. “You know.”

Oikawa sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

Iwaizumi kissed him, and it wasn’t the urgent press of teeth and tongue that had characterized their first intimacies. It was slow, a slide of lips that had become familiar after a handful of shared nights. Oikawa trailed his fingers along the stubble of Iwaizumi’s jaw, tracing his way down to the tattoos on his neck. 

“I’ll send you commissary money,” said Iwaizumi. “Once I get settled.”

“Save your money. There’s nothing in here I need.”

Iwaizumi kissed his mouth again, then his jaw, then nosed down to his throat. “Nothing?”

“Other than you, no.”

Iwaizumi pressed his smile against Oikawa’s neck. “You don’t need me. You never have.” The bedsprings squeaked beneath them as he adjusted. 

It was fortunate that Tanaka was assigned to their cellblock that day. Oikawa knew without even checking that he’d be sitting in the clear-windowed guard station at the front of the block, with his feet up and his phone out. He wouldn’t walk around and check on anyone unless there was an emergency. They wouldn’t be interrupted, and Oikawa would cherish the little time they had left.

“Keep an eye on Kindaichi, too,” said Iwaizumi, lips moving against Oikawa’s throat as he spoke. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“I’ll take care of him,” said Oikawa. He dipped a hand into the tangles of Iwaizumi’s hair. “I’ll take care of all of them. Someone has to watch the Block when you’re gone.”

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh against Oikawa’s collarbone. A brush of his lips followed. “Who’s going to watch you, then?”

“No one. I can take care of myself.”

Iwaizumi propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at Oikawa with a distinct lack of a scowl. When he wasn’t frowning, the lines of his face smoothed out and left him looking younger. Either way, Oikawa thought he was stunning. “You know Ushijima would help you out, if you ever need it. He’s not a bad guy.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “I would rather die than ask him for help.” He didn’t mention the way he’d nearly begged Ushijima for help two weeks earlier. That had been for Iwaizumi’s benefit, not his own, so it didn’t count.

“Just saying,” said Iwaizumi through a grin. “He’d have your back. I think he’s got a thing for you.”

“Well that’s too bad for him,” said Oikawa. “It’s never going to happen.”

Satisfied by that reply, Iwaizumi descended lower.

It was a miracle that Tanaka didn’t hear Oikawa’s moans from the front of the block.

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa’s last glimpse of Iwaizumi was through the chain link fence of the yard. If he stood at the very corner, at the far end of the walking path, he could just barely see the front gate of the prison. It was there that he saw Iwaizumi walk out the door as a free man, dressed in a new pair of sweatpants and a crisp white t-shirt. He stopped at the edge of the road, beside the waiting taxi, and turned to take one last look at the imposing stone building that had been his home for the past ten years. He surveyed the scene, and Oikawa swore that Iwaizumi’s stare landed on him, but from that distance it was impossible to tell. 

Iwaizumi got into the taxi, and Oikawa watched until it was out of sight.

When he returned to the picnic table, accepting a hand of cards without complaint, Hanamaki said, “He’ll do great out there. He’ll be rolling in cash by the time I get out of here. Maybe I can just stay with him and he can support me for the rest of my life. I can be his housewife.”

“You’d be a terrible housewife,” said Matsukawa. “You don’t even know how to cook.”

Hanamaki shrugged. “We’d have a lot of takeout. Who cares.”

Kindaichi gently nudged Oikawa as the others continued the nonsensical conversation. “Oikawa-san, are you okay?”

He didn’t even have to lie. When he smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m great,” it was the absolute truth. 

He would miss Iwaizumi terribly, but this was for the best, and Oikawa would not begrudge him a chance to live a normal, fulfilling life.

  
  
  
  
  
A week later, Oikawa got a new cellmate. His name was Watari, and he was a quiet man of mild manners and polite habits. Once they got comfortable with one another, Watari explained that he was in the process of appealing his sentence. He said he’d been falsely accused, and although Oikawa had learned that mostly everyone in that place was a liar, he couldn’t think the same of Watari. He was so genuine that Oikawa couldn’t help but believe him.

They got along just fine. Oikawa let Watari borrow a book every now and then, and Watari thanked him by sharing some of the sweets he bought from commissary. It was a smooth living arrangement, but Oikawa still sometimes had dreams about waking up to find Iwaizumi in the bed across from him instead of Watari.

  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, Oikawa got his first letter since he’d arrived in prison. The writing was so messy that it was nearly illegible, but Oikawa spent so much time staring at it that he eventually deciphered all of the characters. 

The name signed at the bottom of the page was _Hajime_ , and Oikawa folded the letter up and kept it beneath his pillow. 

The next week he added another similar letter to that stack, and the week after that, and the one after that. Every week he expected Iwaizumi would become so caught up in the real world that he would forget about the letters, and about Oikawa, but every week a new letter came anyway. 

Oikawa kept them all, and if someone had tried to take them away from him, he was fairly certain he would make use of the switchblade he still kept stored away.

  
  
  
  
  
Three months after Iwaizumi had been released, Oikawa received an outside deposit into his commissary. It wasn’t much - 2500 yen - but that didn’t matter. Oikawa knew exactly where it had come from, and he used it to buy a book that Iwaizumi had mentioned once before. Oikawa read it several times, and kept it stowed away with his letters. When he got out, he would give it to Iwaizumi, if he ever saw him. It seemed like the sort of story he would like.

  
  
  
  
  
When Oikawa was eight months into his sentence, Bokuto was released and a new inmate took his place in Block Four. For a reason unknown to Oikawa, the man felt entitled to take charge not only of his own cellblock, but the prison as a whole. He wreaked mayhem that got all of the inmates sentenced to indefinite lockdown. Their access to the yard was revoked, and they were trapped in their cells at all times excluding meals and showers. It was unacceptable, and the leaders of each block banded together to fix it.

It was obvious that Kuroo and Ushijima would step up for their respective cellblocks. Oikawa expected Matsukawa or Hanamaki to volunteer to represent Block Two, but neither of them were inclined. They looked to Oikawa as if it was something expected of him, as if it was obvious that the mantle of leadership had been passed to him when Iwaizumi had been released. He’d told Iwaizumi that he would take care of the Block, but he’d thought that would only be in regards to Kuroo. This was different, and unexpected.

Regardless, he accepted the responsibility, and put aside his disgust of Kuroo long enough to work with him. It seemed that Bokuto’s release did nothing to affect the tentative civility that had developed between Kuroo and Oikawa. Even without that bargaining chip, Kuroo seemed to have no ill will against Oikawa. Together with Ushijima, they put together a plan to deal with Terushima Yuuji. He became a permanent resident of Maximum Security, thanks to their intervention. Akaashi took charge of Block Four instead, despite his initial reluctance, and things settled back into a routine.

  
  
  
  
  
Hanamaki and Yahaba were both released during Oikawa’s first year, and Kindaichi soon into the second. The new inmates in their block weren’t bad, but it wasn’t quite the same. Oikawa found himself reminiscing about his first few months in prison, and then laughed at the sheer insanity of it. If he was going to be nostalgic, it should be for a time before he was in prison. No time spent here should be enjoyable.

Still, when he thumbed through his growing collection of letters every night, he thought not everything about prison had been bad.

  
  
  
  
  
During Oikawa’s eighteenth month, he received a letter that had a special attachment. There was a photograph tucked inside, a color shot of three faces he knew all too well. Hanamaki had dyed his hair bubblegum pink, and there was a row of piercings along the shell of his ear. Kindaichi’s hair was spiked up into an orderly disarray, and he was as awkward as ever. Between them, with a smile that could light up a midnight sky, was Iwaizumi. His hair had grown out a little, and his tan was darker. The collar of his jacket was popped up to hide his tattoos, and the teardrop etched over his cheekbone was nearly hidden by an artful smear of concealer. His eyes were bright, his smile was warm, and for the first time since Oikawa had been arrested, he rolled over in his bed and let himself cry, just a little.

Oikawa had never wanted to be in prison, but he’d also never wanted out as badly as he did right now. 

  
  
  
  
  
When month twenty-one rolled around, it was Tendou’s turn to be released. He threw himself a party to drain the last reserves of his contraband hooch, and Oikawa was dragged into attendance. He almost refused in fear of catching trouble only a few months before his own release, but Kageyama was the guard on duty in Block One that night, and Oikawa was confident that even if the others got busted, Kageyama would let him slip by.

They hadn’t spoken much since the incident, but Kageyama no longer flinched when Oikawa looked at him, and he didn’t actively avoid him in the hallways anymore, so Oikawa thought they were doing okay.

Tendou made a toast to himself, and leaned against Semi as he drained his cup. “Here’s to me! May you all miss me terribly when I’m gone. I hope you’re miserable without me.” He threw an arm across Semi’s shoulders. “Except for you, Semi-Semi. You’re too pretty to be miserable. Cheer up.”

Semi rolled his eyes and tilted back his own cup. He wasn’t handling Tendou’s release well. It was obvious to everyone.

Just before Oikawa shuffled out of Tendou’s cell to return to his own block before lights out, he heard Tendou say, “Don’t worry, Semi-Semi. I’ll go out and have a good time, but not for long. I’ll come back. I won’t leave you here alone. I promise.”

“You’d better fucking not,” said Semi. “I’ll kill you if you come back here, Satori.” 

Oikawa knew he was lying, just as Tendou must have. Semi wanted Tendou there with him. That had probably been the reason Semi had committed another robbery. Maybe it had just been his lack of ability to cope with the outside world, but maybe it had been because he wanted to be with Tendou again.

Either way, Oikawa knew Tendou’s promise was serious. He would be back, and the cycle would start all over again.

  
  
  
  
  
On month twenty-two, Matsukawa was released. He’d made plans to move into Hanamaki’s apartment until he could find his own place. He promised he would give Oikawa an honest, accurate update about how the others were doing, because the letters were always so positive that Oikawa was beginning to believe they were filled with lies.

Two weeks later Oikawa received that letter from Matsukawa, written bluntly and with a great deal of skepticism that their past blockmates were doing just as well as they’d said. He spent an entire paragraph complaining about Hanamaki’s recently acquired Pekingese that had already made a hobby of pissing in Matsukawa’s shoes, but that was the only negative thing he could whine about. He said life wasn’t bad on the outside, and it made Oikawa even more eager to join them.

  
  
  
  
  
Month twenty-three, and Oikawa and Kyoutani were the only ones from the original cellblock left. They’d never gotten along, and they still weren’t friends, but they’d developed a mutual respect born out of two years of living in close quarters. Kyoutani still had three years to go, but considering he’d already served six, he was well on his way. Oikawa told him that he would be responsible for the cellblock after Oikawa was gone, and Kyoutani grudgingly agreed.

He’d mellowed out since Oikawa had met him. He thought Kyoutani would be just fine.

  
  
  
  
  
Month twenty-four, and each day dragged a little longer than the last. 

Tendou showed up the day before Oikawa’s release, and Oikawa would have died before he’d admitted it was good to see him.

Still, he didn’t struggle too much when Tendou wrapped him up in a hug. It was much milder than the greeting he gave Semi, who’d started cursing him the second he’d stepped through the door. Tendou had only gotten a couple of arson charges this time. It had given him three years here, and by then, Semi would be halfway through his new sentence. Maybe Tendou would call it quits and stay out when that time came, or maybe he’d go one more round until it was Semi’s time, too. Oikawa didn’t know, and he didn’t plan to be around to find out.

Oikawa didn’t sleep at all the night before his release. He laid in bed, flipping through his letters in the low light of the cellblock, the glasses that Iwaizumi had gotten him a long time ago perched on his nose. The last few letters had been shorter than usual, but since Oikawa had constantly expected to receive nothing at all, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. Maybe he really would reconnect with his old blockmates after he was released. Maybe he really would see Iwaizumi again.

Maybe he and Iwaizumi could make something, but he wouldn’t rely on that. Iwaizumi had spent the last two years putting his life together, and it was very possible that there wasn’t much room in it for Oikawa. He told himself that if could just see Iwaizumi, even one time to confirm that he was truly okay, he would be satisfied.

Oikawa rose early that morning, gathered up all his letters, and distributed the rest of his property to his blockmates. He discreetly slipped the switchblade to Kyoutani after extracting a promise from him that he would only use it in the case of a life or death situation. Handing someone like Kyoutani a deadly, illegal weapon probably wasn’t the best idea, but someone had to protect Block Two in Oikawa’s absence. Kyoutani was the best choice. 

Breakfast was a cheery affair, and the Block Two table gave Oikawa a heartfelt round of farewells. Ushijima even came over to their table to tell him goodbye. His release date was coming up in six months, and he reminded Oikawa that if he ever needed anything when they were both on the outside, that he shouldn’t hesitate to contact him. It was a nice offer, objectively, but Oikawa thought if he never saw Ushijima again it would be too soon.

Oikawa took one last shower, savoring the lukewarm water, content in the knowledge that he would never experience this again. He didn’t know where his next shower would be, but as long as it wasn’t in prison, he didn’t particularly care.

At noon he headed toward the booking area, where he would be processed out and released. He passed Kuroo in the hallway, and almost kept walking until Kuroo stopped him.

“Yo, Oikawa.”

Oikawa half-expected Kuroo to shank him. They’d developed a tentative working relationship over the past couple of years, but that didn’t mean Oikawa liked him or trusted him. He would never forget what Kuroo had done to Iwaizumi. “Yeah?”

Kuroo considered him, head slightly tilted, mouth tucked into a half-frown. He was pensive as he said, “Good luck out there. I hope I never see you again.”

Prison was the only place where that particular phrase wasn’t an insult.

“Thanks, Kuroo,” said Oikawa. “Good luck to you, too.” He almost meant it.

Kuroo shrugged. “I’ll take it. I’ll need all the luck I can get for the prison break.” 

Oikawa laughed, but stopped quickly when Kuroo’s face didn’t change. “You’re not serious.”

Kuroo’s grin was lopsided. “You can keep thinking that until you see it on the news.” He walked away, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder. “Nice knowing you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa didn’t have time to reflect on that. He shoved it out of his mind and kept moving.

Kageyama was the guard assigned to complete his release paperwork. That seemed like fate, somehow.

“Sign here, Oikawa-san,” he said, after he’d given Oikawa a fresh set of clothes to change into. It was a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, the same thing he’d seen Iwaizumi wearing when he’d left two years before. “Put the date here, and initial in all of these spots. Here’s your allowance.”

Oikawa signed where he was instructed and took the small handful of yen. “Thanks, Tobio-chan.” He tucked it into his pocket alongside the letters and added, “For everything, not just this. I had a rough patch at the beginning. Thanks for helping me through it. If you ever need a favor, call me.”

“I won’t, but thanks.” He unlocked the trio of gates separating them from the front of the prison and stood back as Oikawa approached the outside door. “Good luck, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa stood there too long. He knew he could go, that he _should_ go, but his legs were stiff. He’d spent so long trapped in there that it felt like a cardinal sin to set foot outside.

He checked over his shoulder, to make sure there were no guards waiting to rush him the moment he left. That was his greatest fear, that someone had misprinted his release date and they would notice at the last possible second that it wasn’t really his time.

Yet when he worked up the nerve to push open the door and step outside, nothing happened. There were no alarms or frenzied guards corralling him back inside. There was only a light spring breeze and a wide open world. 

The sidewalk that led to the street was long. Oikawa followed it, still anxious, still expecting the worst. There were two cars parked at the side of the street. The first was the taxi that Kageyama had called for him before he’d signed his paperwork. The other was a shiny black sedan that he didn’t recognize. Oikawa headed straight for the taxi until the window of the sedan rolled down and a low, honeyed voice floated out. 

“Hey, want a ride?”

Oikawa froze, his new sneakers scuffing against the sidewalk. The voice punched the breath from his lungs, sent his mind in a whirl that left him dizzy. When he finally moved, it was nearly a spring. He latched onto the lip of the open passenger side window, ducking his head inside to find Iwaizumi grinning back.

“You’re here,” said Oikawa, breathless. “You didn’t tell me you would be here.”

“Surprise. You want a ride or not?”

“Yes. Of course. I just… Is this your car?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s a rental. Get in.”

“Just… one second.” Reluctantly, Oikawa peeled himself away and dashed to the taxi, flinging a handful of yen at the driver. “Here, sorry, I don’t need you after all. Have a great day!” He nearly tripped on his way back to the sedan and stumbled into the passenger seat, swinging the door shut behind him.

Iwaizumi looked at him, long enough that the taxi was long gone.

“You look good,” said Iwaizumi. “Guess prison didn’t treat you too bad after I left.”

“For the most part.” Oikawa eyed Iwaizumi’s arms, as thick as ever, and the flash of white teeth showcased by his smile. He hadn’t put makeup over the tattoo on his face, but Oikawa was glad it was there. It just proved that this was the Iwaizumi he’d met two years ago, the Iwaizumi who’d promised to wait for him. 

This was the Iwaizumi he’d thought about every single day since then, the only person he’d truly looked forward to seeing when he was released.

“You look better,” said Oikawa. “It’s really good to see you, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi reached across the car to squeeze Oikawa’s hand. “You too. Ready to go?”

“Fuck yes. Get me out of here.”

Iwaizumi laughed, and it was like balm to Oikawa’s raw nerves. He relaxed back into the seat as Iwaizumi slipped on a pair of sunglasses and pulled onto the street, adjusting the radio until there was a static background of rap music. The windows were down, and the fresh air blew through Oikawa’s hair, putting him at ease. 

“I was thinking,” said Iwaizumi, “you might want to go out for dinner tonight. To celebrate, you know.”

Distantly, Oikawa remembered a conversation he’d had with Iwaizumi about two years before. He’d said if he took Oikawa on a date, it would be somewhere better than the yard.

At the time, Oikawa hadn’t thought it would ever truly happen.

“Yeah,” he said. He watched the passing scenery through the window, appreciating the sight of every single tree. “That would be fantastic. I need to figure out where I’m going to stay, though, after that.”

“Don’t be stupid,” scoffed Iwaizumi. “I said you can stay with me.”

“You told me that two years ago.”

“So? Nothing’s changed. Same offer, bed or couch.”

Oikawa bit his lip. He was afraid to agree to this, afraid that something would happen and it would be yanked away from him. Maybe he was asleep, and he was having a dream that encompassed the past two years. He would wake up and it would be month four all over again.

He pinched his thigh, subtly, and the pain made him smile. 

“Bed,” said Oikawa, sliding a sideways glance toward Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi grinned again. It was a good expression on him, better than the scowls he’d always worn in prison. “Good answer.”

Oikawa reached for Iwaizumi’s hand, and even though so much time had passed since the last time they’d seen each other, their fingers still threaded together perfectly.

“Could you take me by the bank, when we get into the city?” asked Oikawa. “I have some money waiting.”

Iwaizumi gave him a sidelong look, and though the dark lenses of his shades obscured his eyes, Oikawa felt that stare drilling into him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oikawa grinned. “You don’t think I gave back _all_ the money I stole, do you?”

One of Iwaizumi’s eyebrows rose. Slowly, his mouth curved in a smile. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You can take me to dinner tonight,” said Oikawa, “but only if I can take you out tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi’s thumb brushed over Oikawa’s knuckles. “It’s a date.”

Oikawa squeezed Iwaizumi’s hand, gently, and watched him instead of the scenery. 

He hadn’t expected Iwaizumi to be around, despite the promises he’d made two years before. He still didn’t understand why Iwaizumi had waited, considering all the opportunities that he’d found in the outside world, considering how desperately he must have wanted to forget about prison altogether. 

Oikawa didn’t understand, but he was thrilled that it had happened. He could have lived without Iwaizumi, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter that they’d met under questionable circumstances. It didn’t matter that Iwaizumi had a bad history, or that he’d spent a decade of his life in prison. 

Oikawa didn’t care about any of that. He never had. 

He only cared that Iwaizumi was here, and Oikawa never wanted to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, you guys! Until next time. <3


End file.
